cloudtobias

A Halloween drabble for everyone. Feel free to continue or make any off shoots you want guys.
Enjoy!

I call upon you, spirits of the dark. I ask for your blessings and help with injustice in my life. I am willing to barter for this help and I await for your humble response.

You rang, kid?

Now to fill in the details of this wonderful scene, we need to talk a bit, you and I. Of a boy at the end of rope after witnessing the tragic death of his godfather. The boy, Harry Potter his name is, ran into a beautiful blonde friend, who told him of a secret ritual she knew to console him. Details were exchanged, plans made, and our sad young hero was now alone in the Room of Requirement on All Hallow’s Eve. Surrounded by the runes and the remains of a chicken, Harry Potter is staring at the man who was just suddenly… there.

Leaning against nothing but air, he is calmly picking at his finger nails which, Harry notices, end in sharp points. His hair is jet black and slicked back, but it does not have the greasy shine that Snape’s does. He also has a thin black moustache with matching eyebrows. Completing the look was the pristine white suit he wore.

Yes, I did. Harry replied, suddenly unsure of himself. Whoever this man was, he exuded power that completely and utterly terrified him.

So what do you need? I got something about an injustice. Did your girlfriend cheat on you? Did a buddy rob you blind? Have a professor touch you in the naughty place? Speak up so I can name my price. The man said, the tone of his voice indicating his boredom as he continued to clean his finger nails. Harry took a deep breath.

I need you to destroy Voldemort.

The man stopped cleaning his finger nails. He finally looked at Harry, making him jolt as he made eye contact. His eyes were a smoldering mirror of his own green. It took every once of will power Harry possessed to not wet himself.

I should have known you’d be calling for my help one day, Harry Potter. The man mused. He shook his head and sighed. For the first time ever I feel sorrow for some one forced to call upon me.

Who are you? Harry felt compelled to ask. The man put his nail file away and sighed again.

I have so many names. He said and grinned. Harry blanched. The man’s teeth looked like shark teeth. But you can call me Lou. I always preferred that one.

Then what do I have to pay? Please, Lou, I’ll give anything for Voldemort to pay!

Anything? Lou said, smiling again.

Anything!

Lou pushed away from whatever he was against in mid air and walked over to Harry. His right hand shot out, and before Harry could stop him, he dragged his index finger nail over Harry’s scaring tracing it. Harry cried out in agony as the nail cut his scar open. Lou eventully took his finger away and Harry saw through his tear filled eyes that the tip was covered with blood and a black cloud clung to the finger. Lou stuck his finger in his mouth and devoured it, the cloud and Harry’s blood.

Terms accepted, Harry James Potter.

 

Several minutes later, Harry walked with a bounce in his step. His clothes were neatly pressed, his scar was healed, and he no longer wore his glasses. His hair was combed neatly and he smiled as he walked, whistling a jaunty tune. He entered the Great Hall for the Halloween feast and made hsi way to his friends.

Harry! Ron called, waving to his friend. Not returning the gesture, Harry strolled over. He didn’t even sit down, merely shoved Ron out of the way, so he could lean close to Hermione who sat by him. Ron crashed to the floor with a startled squwak.

Harry! Hermione screeched. Why woul—?

Harry cut her off by kissing her. Hermione’s eyes bulged before she shivered. Her eyes fluttered closed as Harry deepened the kiss, pulling her close. Conversation in the Hall tapered off as they all watched this spectacle. Eventually, Harry pulled away and smirked at Hermione who sat there in a daze.

You have now idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. Harry said, running the tip of his right index finger along her cheek. He moved away from her. I’ll see you later.

Harry whirled around and smoothly strode from the Hall.

 

You’ll never get away with this.

Harry paused and turned to mirror he had just passed in the hallway. He saw his reflection, but he also saw another reflection of his. Unlike the frist, which changed as he smirked, the second was scowling at him.

Get away with what Harry? ‘Harry’ replied, checking his hair in the mirror. You agreed to anything for Voldemort’s destruction. I devouered the piece of his soul in you, which killed the other pieces everywhere else. Now you belong to me. Or do you doubt the word of the Morning Star?

Hermione will find out! She’ll do something! Harry protested.

‘Harry’ chuckled.

Ah yes, Hermione Granger. She tastes very nice, I can’t wait to see how far into darkness she’ll follow. ‘Harry’ replied, and finished straightening his hair. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to relieve Ms. Lovegood of her virginity. I do so owe her for passing on the ritual to you. After all her mother used it and I killed her for it.

Damn you!

Now Harry, let’s be civilized about this. ‘Harry’ said, turning form the mirror. After all, you did help me damn your world to Hell, didn’t you?

Harry’s scream made Lucifer chuckle as he strolled down the hall.

Now where was that Lovegood girl?

Cloneserpents

I think the maids’ first job should have something to do with polishing. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge. Know what I mean?

Now Gabrielle, I want zat to shine, Fleur ordered her sister. Eet must sparkle! So polish eet well!

Oui, replied the younger blonde.

Non, you are not doing eet properly, scolded Fleur. Let me show you.

Oh, does your spit make the task easier?

Nothing eez better zan a good spit shine.

Some time later, Gabrielle exclaimed; Mon Dieu, what eez eet doing now? Eet eez making a mess! A warm, sticky mess!

Zat is natural. Eet happens all zee time when one spit polishes.

Do we clean up zee mess with a rag? the younger sister asked.

Heavens’ no, returned Fleur. We must clean it up with out tongues.

BSJinx

So, to satisfy my foaming fans… well, fan, anyway (hi Hellish!)… here goes part B. Apologies to Gary Larsen; you’ll know why.

After checking in on Gabrielle and Astoria, Harry retired to his office for a while. For all his efforts to reduce paperwork (preferably to ashes), he still had to send in some work to keep his staff in the proper state of apprehension. The click of high heels outside the room broke him out of a reverie.

Maitre, your bath is ready, Gabrielle called. Harry looked to find Gabrielle and Astoria, who had both managed to saturate their uniforms completely, causing them to fit tightly to their curvaceous forms. Water was slowly dropping from both of their skirts onto the carpet.

Ladies, make sure to dry the carpet before you leave… why are you both still in those wet uniforms? Harry asked.

We’ve just finished carrying the water, Master. Not much point in drying ourselves before we’re done just to dry ourselves again, is there? Astoria chirped.

Well, please do so now before you damage the carpet, Harry ordered. Immediately, both witches removed their wands from their garters and started to slowly run their wands a few inches above each other’s uniforms, chanting softly as they proceeded. After a couple of minutes, Harry left them behind to take his bath; if he chose to spend a few extra minutes in the tub, that was no one’s business but his own.

When he emerged in a new set of robes, he stopped by the second edroom to find Fleur and Daphne waiting for him. The room was spotless; Fleur and Daphne were less so, with dirt speckling their faces and arms and runs in their stockings.

What happened to you two? Harry asked, drawing his wand.

The team responded by wobbling over to Harry and grasping his arms. Ze dust bunnies were terrible, moaned Fleur.

Dust bunnies? But they’re not so…  Harry started.

The dust buffalo and dust hippos were a lot worse, and the dust rhino really took it out of us, Daphne said slowly, taking Harry’s arm and putting it around her bare shoulders.

But we did it for you, Maitre! Fleur beamed. This room is now fit for ‘uman ‘abitation, she continuing, bowing deeply.

Actually, Harry replied slowly, trying not to concentrate on the view down Fleur’s uniform, this room isn’t meant for me. You’ll be using it tonight. I didn’t realize that this job would take so much out of you, and I’m really sorry.

He was immediately embraced by both women. Oh, thank you, Master, thank you! they squealed. I’ve been wondering where I would be moving my things, continued Daphne.

Well, I’m going to have full-time quarters for all of you shortly. I started with these rooms so that everyone would have someplace to sleep tonight, even if it isn’t perfect. You should be moving again in a couple of days, Harry outlined, depending on how bad the quarters’ conditions are.

Don’t worry, ‘Arry, Fleur chided. We’re ‘ere to do ze work for you zo zat you may concentrate on doing your important work. I’d sleep on your floor if I ‘ad to—

That won’t be necessary, Harry hurriedly answered, I’m not into hurting my servants. Daphne looked faintly disappointed for some reason, but the look passed before Harry was completely sure it was there.

Could you do us ze one favor, though? Fleur requested as they separated.

Certainly, Harry said.

Our stockings were torn up by our run-ins with the dust beasts. Could you please fix them? They’re silk, so please be very careful. As Daphne said this, she and Fleur both flopped down on the bed face down.

Harry carefully picked up Fleur’s left calf and begin to carefully repair each tiny hole and rip in the stocking. He owed it to his employees to be thorough.

 

Harry finished repairing the stockings twenty minutes later, giving them instructions to the drawing room when they were ready. Then it was time to turn his attention to Hermione and Narcissa.

He wasn’t surprised at all to find Hermione sitting on the floor plowing through one of his tomes. He was a bit more surprised to find Narcissa joining her.

Good reads, ladies? Harry teased.

Fascinating, Master. My husband never let me read his books— although that may be just as well. It feels good to exercise my mind again, Narcissa sighed. She stretched out her long legs in front of her, and then separated them widely. From above, Harry could see the garters tensed across her inner thighs. If the skirts were a little shorter, or she spread her legs a bit wider…

Harry quickly turned to Hermione. And yours? he asked.

Hermione was seated Indian-style. I’m really getting into this book— political history of the early Caliphate magicians, she stated.

That sounded much less interesting than watching maids dry. Glad you’re enjoying it— that doesn’t sound quite like my… 

She enthused, Oh, it’s excellent, Harry! It goes on about how they helped preserve the magic from the Romans, and how the harems would serve to demonstrate magic for their masters. Sometimes, they’d perform magic on each other, and there were even public demonstrations… 

Harry stopped her before he lost his train of thought. Hermione, can I talk to you in private for a minute? No need to get up, Narcissa.

 

Hermione, how long did you want to stay here?

What do you mean, Master? She countered.

Well, I was thinking that, if you wanted to help me deal with my collection, you could stay on in that position when you don’t want to be a maid, Harry explained. I imagine—

Before he could continue, Hermione wrapped him up in one of her Hermy-Hugs. It had been years since she’d done so, and he had almost forgotten how strong her grip could be. He also didn’t remember those Hugs being against such a curved surface, or his body reacting as much.

Oh, Master! That’s exactly what I was hoping for! she gushed. I mean, I didn’t mind being a barrister, but I didn’t want to do it for the next hundred years. I want to explore the limits of magic! And if I can do it with you, she exulted, squeezing him tightly once more. I’ll do it, Master Harry! I’ll do it for as long as you want!

And the uniform? Harry asked, again diverting his thoughts.

Oh, I’ll admit it was a bit of a shock, but it’s grown on me, she smiled, twirling a bit. Her skirt floated up; Harry wondered how her legs had gotten so toned. Narcissa’s told me about a couple of tricks she uses on her clothes.

Somehow, I’m not surprised, Harry smirked. Could you please go out and get Narcissa? I want to speak with her.

When Narcissa strode into the nook where he’d set up shop, Harry spoke. Narcissa, I appreciate the help that you’ve been giving Hermione, but I want to make sure that you don’t go too far.

What do you mean, Master? Narcissa asked ingenuously.

She didn’t fool Harry for a minute. I’ll tell you what I mean, he said, walking toward her. Instinctively, she backed toward the wall. I’m not sure I like the way that you’ve acted toward Hermione. I think you’ve been trying to claim her for yourself.

I wouldn’t do that to you, Master! she replied, in a lower voice. Her shoulders touched the rear wall of the library.

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. I don’t want you to correct her or to try to do things she doesn’t want to do.

I understand, Master, she replied softly. Her usual aristocratic tone started to falter.

Harry placed his right hand on her other shoulder, pinning her to the wall. I just want to make this clear to you— there is one master in this House and that is me. If you try to usurp my authority, you will be punished. Is that clear? he asked coldly.

Y-y-yes, Master. Narcissa had been threatened by experts, or those who thought they were, but the look in those green eyes did something to her that her husband never could. Her nostrils flared, her skin flushed, and she was taking deep, calming, dress-straining breaths.

Now you’re doing a fine job, Harry said, smiling; he didn’t want to scare Narcissa too much, and the way she was panting and her eyes were swimming indicated that he might have overdone it. I just want to make sure that everyone stays happy. You’re all equals in my eyes, and I’ll take care of all of you. I want you to enjoy life here. Do you understand?

Yes, Master, she replied, some of her hauteur returning.

As she left, he used Legilimency to make sure she was mentally alright and caught a stray thought from her. If he had only pushed!

What was that about?

 

At dinner that evening, Harry has some announcements to make. He wanted the maids to continue to work in pairs for the time being, until more of Potter Manor was tamed. He announced that they’d start work on a large room once used as servants’ quarters in the coming days, and that would be their permanent lodging if they like it, but temporary arrangements would be made until then.

Finally, as they retired to a drawing room, he asked Gabrielle about the plumber.

She’ll be by tomorrow, the youngest maid tersely replied.

Who and when? Harry asked. Gabrielle only smiled.

Don’t make me punish you, Gabrielle. Who and when? Harry insisted. Gabrielle stayed mute.

Alright, Gabrielle. If that’s the way you want it. I want all of you to see this. With that, Harry rose and seized Gabrielle under the arms. While she squawked, hee carried her back to his seat and laid her across his lap. He rubbed one hand down her long, lean back while poising the other over her black-clad buttocks. One more time, Gabrielle, who and when?

When no answer arrived, he swung his right hand down. SMACK!

Anything you want to say? The youngest maid wriggled but said nothing.

Two more slaps. Now? Still nothing.

Three more paddles. How about now? Gabrielle was gasping and squirming now, but still refused to speak.

On the fourth swat after that, Gabrielle finally broke down. Alright! I’ll tell you! She wriggled up Harry’s body and whispered in his ear.

I didn’t know she did plumbing, Harry replied.

Only during ze off-season, Gabrielle clarified.

Why didn’t you just tell me earlier? It’s not as if I’d mind; I like her, Harry queried.

Oh, I wasn’t completely sure, she answered. Master, you ‘it pretty ‘ard, by the way. My bottom will be all red tomorrow.

Well, let that teach a lesson to you. But just because I must punish you, don’t believe that I don’t care for you. Harry hugged Gabrielle and kissed her on her forehead, before boosting her off of his lap.

After another hour or so, the maids said that they wanted to take their baths. Harry magicked robes and nightgowns for them and sent them off, two by two. WHen they returned in their nightwear, and was ready to guide them to their beds.

Hermione and Narcissa would sleep in the library for now; Harry widened the chaise longue to the width of a king-sized bed, easily accommodating both of them. Fleur and Daphne would sleep in the room that they had so laboriously cleaned; Harry told them they deserved the fruits of their work.

But Master! Are we to sleep on the bathroom floor? Astoria pleaded. Have we been so bad to you?

I wouldn’t do that to you, Astoria! I had another place in mind for you. WIth that, he led them through the manor— and to his surprise, into his own master bedroom.

Harry’s bed looked a great deal like those from Hogwarts. With a clever Geminio charm, he conjured an exact duplicate on the other side of the room for the last two maids. Will this be satisfactory?

Yes, thank you, Master, yes! came the reply. The two eagerly climbed into the bed, doffing their robes in the process. Soon, all the Manor’s denizens were sleeping and dreaming of days to come.

BSJinx

NB: This is the third time I’ve started on this segment. My computer must be allergic. I have incorporated some of Hellish’s suggestions (Continuity Yay!). This part will be a bit racier than its predecessors.

The sun rose over Potter Manor, promising a clear, warm day. On the grounds, the birds took one look at the owner’s mamba and, as one, flew into the sky, taunting it with the singing that it had rudely interrupted many times before. Of course, this took them out of earshot of the Manor’s inhabitants, so the snake did its job anyway.

The sun’s rays caused the lord of the manor to stir. His head flopped to the right, leaving his just-opened eyes to be greeted by a mass of yellow. A few seconds later, he determined that this was blonde hair. To determine whom it belonged to, he pulled down the sheet to examine his bed’s other occupant.

Evenly, lightly tanned skin. A long neck leading to a smooth, slender back, in turn leading down to a narrow waist and tight buttocks with pink spots…

This must be Gabrielle. She must have sleepwalked over from the other bed. And the poor girl forgot her robe and nightgown.

’Isn’t she beautiful, Harry?’

The voice was female, low-pitched, and seductive. Harry looked around, but there was no obvious source — Gabrielle was clearly asleep and Astoria was just a lump in the covers of the other bed. It didn’t exactly sound like either of them anyway.

’Eighteen years old, part-Veela. Any man would kill to have her in his bed… and so would many women.’

The voice was doing its best to convince him. As if in response, Harry felt his cock begin to rise, until it tapped Gabrielle on the buttock.

’She wants you, Harry. She’s wanted you since she knew what her body was for. Just turn her over.’

Slowly, as if still dreaming, Harry placed a hand on Gabrielle’s shoulder and rotated the sleeping maid until she was facing upward. Her breathing remained slow and rhythmic, her moderate breasts rose and fell, and Harry could see a half-smile on her face; he was glad she was having pleasant dreams.

’Now all you need to do, Harry, is just spread her legs apart. She’ll welcome you. Trust me.’

Harry slowly placed a hand on Gabrielle’s toned thigh. As he did so, Gabrielle let out a soft moan.

That got through the fog in Harry’s mind. What had he been about to do? That moan was surely a sign of protest.

Harry scrambled out of bed before either of the girls got up to see his nakedness. He’d have to start wearing clothing to bed in the future. Right now, he needed a long cold shower.

 

Damn, damn, damn damn DAMN! muttered Astoria Greengrass Malfoy as she crossed the space between her bed and Harry’s to join her fellow maid. She’d been proud of her Legilimency and Occlumency in school — you couldn’t be married off to the Malfoys without those skills, not if you wanted to stay sane — and she and Gabrielle had been confident of their plan when they hatched it in whispers last night.

The human mind is most vulnerable to suggestion in the few minutes before and after waking. Astoria had hoped that a little persuasion and Gabrielle’s marvelous, unclad body would break down Harry’s defenses.

Was there somezing else I should ‘ave done, Astoria? the younger girl asked. Or shouldn’t ‘ave done? I should ‘ave known zat moan was a mistake… 

No, Gabrielle, it seemed like a good idea to me too, Astoria replied sadly. Maybe I was too aggressive. But I just didn’t know how much time we’ve have before his mental defenses kicked in.

I ‘ave ‘eard, Gabrielle said while slowly grinning, zat many men enjoy zeeing women in each other’s company. Fleur ‘as told me about ze movies zat some Veela make. As she spoke, she embraced Astoria, their bodies starting to rub together separated by only Astoria’s thin cotton nightgown. Astoria was several inches shorter than Gabrielle, but the brownish blonde was broader across the shoulders and more voluptuous than her younger colleague.

With an effort, Astoria nudged Gabrielle away. I’m sure Harry will, but not right now. I don’t think he’s in the mood for another try. We’d better get dressed and go down to breakfast.

 

I wish you’d talked to me before trying zis plan, Gabby, Fleur chided while the maids were seated at their table near the kitchen. I know ‘Arry well enough to know zat he’s very tough to fool mentally ze way you and Astoria tried to do.

Gabrielle turned sideways to face her sister. Fleur, when will we get zuch an opportunity again? Maybe we were too aggressive, but when zese servants’ quarters are opened, zat’s where ‘Arry will expect us to stay! She seemed on the point of tears.

Astoria reached across the table to pat her young comrade’s hand. If you have to blame someone, Fleur, blame me. I goaded her so that Harry would overcome his resistance to making love to me, too. And that applies to Narcissa as well.

And why is zat? Fleur asked.

In response, Astoria and Narcissa extended their left hands. Both bore rings — large, flawed, discolored diamonds on gold and platinum bands. These won’t come off until our husbands are dead, Narcissa explained. And Harry’s too noble to do that, and won’t take married women even if we make it clear that we’re willing.

And he won’t want to ruin his friendship with me, added Hermione.

And he’ll claim he doesn’t know me well enough, chimed in Daphne.

So what do we do? Gabrielle asked Fleur, who sat quietly for a minute to think.

We need to be ready to take advantage of any opportunities that arise, she said at last.  ‘Arry’s life ‘as never been dull. Zere are always visitors and unexpected events, and if we’re in ze right place at ze right time, we shall get what we want.

And then Harry’s fairness will work in our favor, Hermione said brightly.

What do you mean? asked Narcissa.

Once he’s made love to one of us, she said, smiling slyly, he won’t want anyone else to feel left out.

 

Hermione, Narcissa, Harry started after his own breakfast, you’ll be handling the library again.

Yes, Master, they chorused.

Fleur, Daphne, you get the next hour or so off because of all the hard work you did. Let me know when the plumber arrives so that I can greet her; she should be here at about 10:30.

Yes, Master, they said.

Harry slowed down a bit. Astoria and Gabrielle, I need you to start working on the rooms between this wing and the servants’ quarters. I don’t want there to be any unnecessary delays. Is that alright? He felt a bit embarrassed at giving Gabrielle orders after what had happened in his room.

Yes, Master, they agreed. Hermione had offered Gabrielle advice that she followed — Don’t try to comfort or reach out to him because that will make him feel guiltier, just smile and do as he asks — and do your job well.

With that, Harry retired to his office. Among other things, he had to make sure the other Unspeakables knew to take down his ads — he certainly didn’t want to inflict any more fangirls on them than absolutely necessary.

 

Click, click, click, click. Fleur and Daphne arrived in Harry’s home office.

Master, the plumber is about to arrive. Please come with us, Daphne said. With that, they started to walk down to the front entrance of Potter Manor.

On their way down, Daphne turned to Harry. I didn’t know her that well at Hogwarts. I certainly wouldn’t have thought that she’d be a plumber.

Harry responded, Well, as Gabrielle said, she only does this during the off-season, apparently. I’m sure you’ll like her; I was a friend of hers throughout our school years, and I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like.

By this time, they’d reached the front door, just in time to hear a knock. Fleur stepped forward to answer the door, revealing a tall black woman.

Angelina! Harry walked forward to hug his old friend and former teammate. She returned the hug with one hand, since the other was holding a heavy toolbox. It’s great to see you again. When did you start doing plumbing?

Just last year, she answered, stepping into the house. I figured that I won’t be able to play for the Harpies forever, and that I should probably learn to do something else. There’s always a good market for fixing up manors — as I guess you’ve found for yourself. She nodded to the smiling maids flanking Harry, who started to lead the way through the manor.

Ze broken pipes are a few minutes’ walk from here, Fleur said. Angelina looked a bit surprised at this. It is a large manor, after all, and we are working our way through it as best we can.

So you may want to make a note of this address, because you may be coming back…  Daphne tailed off as Angelina walked past her.

From the front, Angelina’s outfit was a pair of overalls with short legs, covering her front pretty well, although revealing most of her muscular thighs above knee-length leather boots. But from behind, her back was bare from the hook connecting the back of her overalls down to her shorts, which were low enough to reveal parts of her buttocks and the cleft between.

Daphne? Harry called, as she’d fallen behind. She rushed up to join Harry at the head of the procession.

Master, I’m sorry, but I just got a look at what Angelina was wearing. It’s… not what I expected.

Angelina laughed lightly. Oh, you’re referring to the shorts? Interesting story there. It seems that back when magical pipes were developed back in the eighteenth century, there was a ritual devised to keep plumbers from being hurt by mishaps due to water pressure, scalding and so forth. That ritual involved exposing a piece of your buttocks before you started the job.

Oh, Daphne replied. It wasn’t a matter that she’d even given thought to. As with most people, she didn’t think about what happened when she flushed except to make sure that the cess went down instead of up.

Well, the funny part is that when the first Muggle plumber learned about it, some guy named Crapper, Angelina continued, he also learned about the ritual even though he couldn’t do it, of course, and then taught it to others. I hear that, to this day, Muggle plumbers all over the world show their customers their arses without knowing why! This drew laughs from Harry and his maids.

I’m still a little surprised that you’d dress like this, Daphne said.

Well, it’s a warm day and I’m visiting a customer that I trust. Don’t worry, I don’t always visit my customers dressed like this, Angelina told Daphne.

I zink your clothes are fine, Angelina. Zey look good on you, Fleur assured their visitor. We’ve almost arrived at ze room.

Just a minute later, they arrived at the bathroom. The fixtures included a standing shower in the corner to their right, an inset round bathtub in the room’s center, and a faucet on the opposite side of the room.

What was the problem? Angelina asked, dropping into professional mode.

Astoria told me that the water was brown and cloudy, and that the hot water taps didn’t produce any hot water, Daphne replied.

You have another maid? Angelina asked Harry.

Four more, actually, Harry stated. And trust me, there’s work for them all.

Damn…  Angelina mused before shaking her head. But enough about that. Time for business.

Do you want us to leave, Angelina? Harry checked.

She shook her head. Not if you don’t want to. There’s plenty of space for me to work, she said, putting down her toolbox, and I might be able to use a hand every so often.

Harry conjured a comfortable chair, sat near the doorway well away from the fixtures, and watched Angelina get to work. He got a good eyeful of her strong body in her overalls, and found to his surprise that when she stood in profile to him — which seemed to happen every few minutes — he could see the sides of her torso and of her breasts. This seemed to bother Angelina not a whit; she kept up a stream of conversation while she worked, and found herself speaking with Fleur.

I was hoping to compete against you in the Triwizard Tournament, but Cedric Diggory won the draw, for all the good it did him, Angelina remembered. I don’t know if I’d have done as well as Harry, but I think I could have beaten you.

Really? Fleur parried. I just got unlucky during the event in your lake, and was ambushed by that mechant Krum in the final maze. I zink I could beat you in a fair competition, she concluded.

I’d like to see that, Angelina replied, prompting Harry to get up before his maid and plumber began fighting each other.

Ladies, please, Harry interjected.

Zere is not a problem ‘ere, Fleur replied coolly. I simply said zat I’d like to compete against Angelina, because I never ‘ad the chance those years ago.

Angelina’s response was equally composed. The Harpies’ first game isn’t for another six weeks. I’m sure that we can make arrangements between now and then. Oh, and Harry? Your problems here are blocked hot water lines and a lot of corrosion. Just out of curiosity, when was the last time anyone used this bathroom before yesterday?

Harry answered slowly, Well, it took six years of legal wrangling before I could inherit this house, and there’d been no formal head of House Black since… 

That’s good enough, Angelina replied. If these problems are in this bathroom, they’ll probably be in others. Daphne was right; you’ll be seeing more of me.

Can you fix the pipes? Daphne and Harry asked together.

Not a problem. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour. She was as good as her word, and twenty-five minutes later, the taps were opened to produce clear hot and cold water from all the fixtures.

You’ve done a wonderful job. Thanks! Daphne said, impuslively giving the taller woman a hug. Now we don’t all have to use Harry’s shower.

Angelina gave an odd look at that.

One at a time, Angelina! Well, it was the only one known to work in the house, Daphne explained, chuckling at the look on the black woman’s face.

Zere are worse fates, Fleur answered. One shower is better zan none, but zis is far better. I look forward to our next meeting, Angelina, she said, hugging Angelina and then shaking her hand.

So do I, replied Angelina, now turning to Harry. Well, it’s been great to see you again, and I hope we stay in touch more often. Now it’s time for a proper farewell.

With that, Angelina gave Harry a tight hug with both arms this time, rivaling Hermione’s famed Hugs. Harry responded; almost of their own volition, his hands wandered down Angelina’s back almost to her shorts and the flesh above them. Angelina gave Harry a kiss on the cheek before finally, slowly releasing him.

I’ll let the bill wait until we figure out how much of a problem you have. How many bathrooms are in this place? Angelina asked.

We’re still exploring the house. It’s been a difficult process, Daphne responded.

What’s made it difficult? Angelina queried.

You do NOT want to know, Fleur replied, in a tone that allowed for no further discussion. The maids escorted Angelina out while Harry decided to stay behind and handle a personal matter.

 

When he checked in on the other teams, he found that Gabrielle and Astoria were making good progress on the pantry two rooms away from the large servants’ quarter room. He still felt rather uncomfortable around them, despite their warm smiles and reassuring words.

Over in the library, Narcissa was holding Hermione up so that she could examine books on the shelf. There’s not much point in climbing a ladder to go up a foot, Master, Hermione explained. So Narcissa’s helping me in this way.

I believe she’s almost done with this shelf, Master. The next couple of shelves should go faster. This entire bookcase will be done by tomorrow, and then the books can all be put in their proper places, Narcissa outlined.

Well, tomorrow you’ll be working on the servants’ quarters, so this will have to wait. I want to have those done as soon as possible, so that you don’t have to sleep in here, Harry replied.

But I like sleeping in here, Master, Hermione pleaded. The conjured blankets are nice and warm, and I like the smell of these old books to help me get to sleep. They always helped me in Hogwarts.

Hermione, we have no idea what’s in those books and causing that smell. You can’t just— Narcissa’s retort was cut short, as she saw Harry walking toward her with a glint in his eye.

Narcissa, again I must remind you. Who is the Master here? Harry inquired.

Y-you are, Master, Narcissa replied nervously.

And if Hermione wants to sleep in this library, then whose decision is that? Harry asked with a tone of tried patience.

Yours, Master, Narcissa breathed.

And what happens to maids who overstep their boundaries? Harry inquired.

I don’t know, Master, Narcissa whispered. Sweat was beginning to break out on her brow and to run down her chest…

I must punish you this evening, Harry said, turning away before he followed a couple of those sweat drops down. Narcissa, I realize the situation that Lucius has put you in financially, but I cannot have you trying to run my household. Is that understood? he asked, turning back toward the woman he was addressing.

Y-yes, Master, Narcissa whispered again.

Good, Harry said, turning to Hermione, who’d watched the exchange with bright eyes. I’m sorry that you had to see that, or the punishment this evening, but I want you to know that I fully intend to treat you all as equals and to protect you all, even from each other. With that, he gave Hermione a hug. After a little while, he squeezed Narcissa’s shoulders, to try to show that he really did respect her, even if she was a bit troublesome.

 

The afternoon was uneventful. Between them, the other two teams of maids did complete work on the pantry and walk-in closet that were the rooms closest to the servants’ quarters, clearing the way for work to begin there tomorrow. Narcissa and Hermione did finish the next two bookshelves as they said they would.

After the Delacours cooked dinner, Harry adjourned the maids to the drawing room.

Sadly, I must punish one of you this evening. Narcissa Black Malfoy, you overstepped your bounds by attempting to give orders to one of your fellow maids. Do you understand why your actions were wrong? Harry pronounced.

Master, I believe that I acted in your best interests, Narcissa explained.

Did I ask you for such advice, Narcissa? Harry asked.

No, Master, Narcissa answered, lowering her head.

Narcissa, I do not believe in needlessly hurting my maids — but I must keep them from hurting each other. Please walk to stand in front of where I now am. When she did so, Harry cast a spell — Manos Ligaros — that bound her hands in front of her and pulled them over her head. Her dress was now straining to contain her quite considerable breasts pushing to free themselves from the garment, and her high heels barely touched the floor.

I shall give you nine blows, Harry said, walking around to Narcissa’s hips — the broadest of any of his maids, no doubt due to age and childbirth. He pulled his right hand back and brought it forward in a slap. One.

As the paddling continued, the Delacours, standing together in front of Narcissa, held hands as they squeezed their thighs together. Astoria was on Narcissa’s left, gasping as if in sympathy for the blows to her mother-in-law, while Daphne’s left hand disappeared below her skirt where she was seated to Narcissa’s right.

Standing next to Harry, Hermione’s eyes had glazed over, watching Narcissa rear up with each blow. Hermione, you are entitled to one blow. Do you want it? Harry asked. Hermione nodded and moved to where Harry was standing. She rocked back and slapped Narcissa’s covered buttocks, and must have hit a sensitive spot as the older woman cried out upon impact.

Harry Finited his spell, allowing Narcissa to return to normal, and she used one hand to rub her buttocks over her dress. I’m sorry that you all had to see that, but now it’s over. I hope not to refer to it again. Do not hold it against her. Is that understood? When all the maids said Yes or nodded, Harry returned to his reclining seat, and the rest of the evening proceeded quietly, including the baths in the newly functional bathroom.

 

The sleeping arrangements were rotated. Fleur and Daphne slept in the library, Gabrielle and Astoria in the first room reclaimed from the dust creatures the previous day, and Hermione and Narcissa in the bed in Harry’s master bedroom, now as far from Harry’s bed as the room’s geometry allowed.

For your own sakes, once you get into this bed, do not leave it until morning. I… cannot guarantee that you’ll be safe if you wander, Harry slowly said, wondering how to warn them about what he’d considered doing that morning.

Safe from what, Master? Narcissa asked with concern.

Harry broke down and explained what had happened that morning, in elliptical terms; to his surprise, Narcissa interrupted him.

Astoria told me all about it, Master. Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing, she smiled. We aren’t worried about you attacking us. We know that you’d never do anything to us that we don’t want.

He was a bit surprised by Narcissa’s sanguinity, and also when Hermione nodded. With cordial good nights, all three of the room’s occupants went to their beds and then into the arms of Morpheus.

Lord of Bones

Warning: RFF and crude humor ahead. Outlandish crack warning.
A/N: No Severus Snapes were harmed during the making of this fic.

Neville strode out of the Gryffindor Dorms brimming with rare confidence, determination in his every step and a light in his eyes. For the first time ever, he felt the surge of true Gryffindor courage lazing brightly within him, and it was all thanks to the strange Muggle comic book he’d accidentally stumbled upon.

Fondly, he patted the bulge in his pocket. The quaint little comic had opened his eyes and showed him a path he’d never have even considered in his wildest dreams.

A path of confidence, courage and daring.

He’d trained. He’d trained long and hard in the Muggle village near Longbottom manner; resulting in even his gradmother being in awe of his new confidence, but now he needed to put his newfound training to the test in a more… public environment.

Taking the steps down two at a time, the Longbottom heir was almost skipping with glee, before he stopping at the sight of a pyjama-clad Ron Weasley blocking the stairway. And, quite visible between the gap of Ron’s legs, was a pair of slender, feminine, stocking-clad legs.

Neville smiled.

It was time to put his training to the test.

 

Honestly, Ron! Haven’t you ever heard of punctuality?

The Weasley boy looked at the brown-haired witch through sleepy, bleary eyes as his brain worked overtime to comprehend the words leaving the annoyed witch’s mouth.

But I’m tired! You can go patrolling alone then, since you love it so much! he snapped back.

Hermione prepared to deliver a scathing retort before something else caught her attention. It was almost fast enough for her to miss, but she had felt something — something human — squeeze her breasts gleefully and also a healthy breeze in a place that shouldn’t have had one.

Slowly, she turned to the sound of Lavender’s shocked yelp and Parvati’s scream as their bits were intoduced to the cold air of the room (something more noticeable in Lavender’s case, as the busty blonde had just come down in a white nightgown); which were soon followed by shocked exclaimations from most of Gryffindor’s witches.

Very, very slowly, she turned to see Neville cackling at the portait entrance, hauling a sack over his shoulder and happily fondling a strangely familiar scrap of black lace before tossing it into the sack behind him.

What a haul! What a haul!

Hermione carefully considered her options before making a rational decision based on her observations.

DIE!

 

Pansy Parkinson made her way to the Slytherin portait entrance, yawning and stretching as she did so. The short-haired brunette stepped out, followed by a bleary-eyed Tracey Davis and a half-asleep Daphne Greengrass.

It was then that she noticed something odd coming down the hallway; something hauling a large sack.

Next to her, Daphne snapped awake. Is… is Longbottom bouncing?

At the mention of his name, Neville looked up and met three pairs of disbelieving eyes attached to three sets of shapely bodies.

Pansy barely had the time to recoil in shock when Neville lunged for her, gave her buttocks a happy grope and then bounced off. Her companions’ shrieks told her that the same thing had just happened to them, before the brown-haired teen ran off, holding a skimpy silver thong up in the air like a prize.

Sweet-O! More silky darlings!

Pansy saw red.

 

In the deepest, darkest parts of his dungeons, Professor Severus Snape carefully looked around the corridor before muttering a warding spell. With a flick of his wand, the greasy man put up the alarm before slowly drawing something out of his pocket with great reverence.

Snape held it up to the light, revealing the object to be a scanty pair of elaborate emerald knickers out of Morgana’s Secret. The dark man ran his fingers over the sheer fabric, shuddering in delight as he did so.

It had taken all his skills at stealth and cloaking magic, but it was this very pair of knickers that he’d stolen from James Potter’s pocket almost two decades ago — the knickers of his beloved Lily Evans. Preservative magic had kept the fabric in pristine condition and it looked as though it was brand-new.

(Somewhere in the afterlife, a redheaded witch shuddered, but attributed that to the icecube her husband was sliding down her back).

And now, here in his private domain, he could explore and indulge-

Was that Longbottom?

There was a sudden rush of footsteps as the alarm ward finally triggered, as Professor Snape realized he was in full view of a mob of female students, some of which were from his own house. Eyes flicked from the scrap of fabric in his hands to his face.

Snape suddenly had a very, very bad feeling.

HE’S IN LEAGUE WITH LONGBOTTOM!

I NEVER THOUGHT HE WAS THIS TWISTED!

The professor cowered as the mob advanced on him, murder in their eyes, while he shielded his most valued possession from them. He had to protect the Precious!

 

Neville was on top of the world. He never would’ve thought being confident could be so much fun. He chanced a look behind him, and smiled at the mob that was furiously chasing him — this was what happened in the comic, too!

Leading the pack were the Gryffindor girls, still furious and relentless. Parvati had somehow acquired a pair of vicious scimitars which she was dual-wielding to great effect, while Hermione, ever the Englishwoman, had got her hands on a traditional English longsword. Lavender rounded them off with a wicked-looking halberd.

(Somewhere upstairs, Dumbledore peered at the suits of armor near the Gryffindor Dorms. How odd, I could’ve sworn they were holding weapons last night… )

Behind them, Pansy cracked a barbed whip with horrifying skill, while Daphne — in the traditional pureblood witch style — had a wicked pair of dirks, supplementing the battleaxe Tracey held. Behind them, the busty form of Susan Bones held a massive morningstar.

It was just perhaps somewhat unlucky that Neville didn’t notice the slippery floor leading to the Great Hall, leading him to lose his balance and hurtle uncontrollably towards one of the tables and making him lose his grip on his sack; just as the mob stormed in for vengeance.

Neville squeaked as the bloodthirsty mob bore down on him — the book never said anything about this!

<The following scene has been censored due to rating issues — LoB>

Their vengeance sated, the girls turned around, just in time to see the sack fall.

Harry Potter, who had just come down for breakfast, didn’t even have time to blink before a massive black sack crashed down on him, knocking him to the floor. Ow, what the… bloody… 

Numbly, he held up his hand and stared at the red satin bra he held. His mouth opened and shut soundlessly before a severely blushing Parvati meekly pulled the offending garment away from his hand. Following suit, a just-as-red Lavender bent down to snatch a skimpy white pair of undergarments, inadverdently giving the stunned young wizard a peek down her top. Harry just sat in stunned silence as several blushing witches reclaimed their undergarments from around — or, in some cases on — him, including an unusually red Daphne Greengrass plucking her knickers from where it had landed on his lap.

Soon only Hermione was left.

Timidly, the witch gestured to her head.

Harry’s hand rose up, and retrieved a scanty scrap of black lace from his head before bringing it down to eye-level. His eyes widened.

The crimson witch squeaked and snatched her knickers away before scampering off.

Harry, for his part, stood up and walked back to his Dorm in Gryffindor Tower, for once at a total loss for anything except getting back into bed and wonder what the hell just happened.

Left where he was, a beaten, bloody Neville staggered up. My silky darlings… gone! Damn you, Harry Potter!

Ralph S.

This was inspired by Lord of Bones’ 90-something drabble. It should also fit seamlessly into that universe. Up for grabs to whoever wants to continue, contribute, … 

 

In which Severus plucks a flower — Pt 1.

 

Alright, that’s all for today. I’ll see you all next week. Please remember to be careful. Severus Snape shook his head. Idiots. As if they had any idea how to be careful. If the Dark Lord won’t get them, I, the Half-Blood Prince, will.

The meeting of the Order concluded, Albus Dumbledore, self-styled Leader of the Light, left the room. Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Then… 

Um…  Lily…  I need to talk to you. You keep me awake all night. Stop it. The red-haired beauty turned, startled at being addressed by someone male who was NOT James. Oh…  it’s you. What can I do for you, Severus?

Severus fidgeted, uncomfortably. Not here…  somewhere private…  please? From behind her, James grumbled. Snape only caught bits and pieces, but what little he did hear almost made him curse everything in sight. …  good for nothing…  hang him upside down…  if he comes on to her, I’ll shake the grease off him… 

Lily turned back to James, whispered something into his ear (Really? — a nod — Ok. See you later, Lily darling.), kissed his cheek and turned to Snape again, who gestured for her to follow him.

Lily followed Snape into the dungeons in the basement, idly wondering what it was with him and dungeons, anyway. After all, I’m the potions mistress; you’re just an apprentice. And a mediocre one, at that. Not that I’ll ever tell you that, of course. Still, … 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Snape suddenly stopping and turning to face her.

Lily, he began awkwardly, and after a moment added, there’s something I must tell you.

Lily, I …  He paused, then suddenly blurted I love you.

Ok. That was unexpected. But why am I not surprised? R-really? She bit her lip. Damn. Must NOT laugh. Wait till James hears about this.

But Severus… , she said quietly. …  I love James, you know that. We’re married. You know that, too. In a somewhat more gentle voice, she added, And then there’s Harry, of course.

Snape was slowly turning red. He tried to help it…  he really did, but it was so damn hard. Oh the things I do for you, Lily. The things I put up with for you. Taking a deep breath, he ground out, Don’t…  don’t worry about them. I’m sure they’ll get themselves kil — I mean, get along just fine without you. Then I can be a good husband to you. …  And a father to our children, too, of course.

Lily was lost for words. He can’t be serious, can he? [Shut it, Black!] …  Focus, woman. Focus. [Wait…  *OUR* children?] Focus, I said! …  Now, how to let him down…  nicely. You know I can’t, Severus. I love him. Them. You understand that, don’t you? Please please leave before I do something I might or might not regret! Please please leave before I … 

But…  but what does he have that I don’t? Bastard. Interrupted my train of thoughts…  again.

Snape was almost pleading.

I do NOT plead.

You do.

Do not.

Do too!

…  shut it.

Meanwhile, Lily was gaping. He can’t be serious…  he is. What does James have that he doesn’t? …  Well, for one, … 

…  A penis!

See! I can…  wait, what did you just say?

Did I just say that out loud? …  Oh to hell with it. Who cares.

I said, ‘A penis’. It’s…  it’s enormous. Godlike, even. And all the things he can do with it…  and his tongue, of course, …  and his fingers…  oh no, mustn’t forget the fingers…  her expression became dreamier by the second.

Severus…  didn’t you wonder why, on the day I married James, the bridesmaids were unavailable just as much as the two of us were? Why do you think that was?

I…  I wasn’t there, Severus admitted. (He had gotten two letters; one from Lily asking him to please attend, another from James telling him to stay the fuck away or there’ll be hell to pay…  Snivellus. Obviously, that was another prank; his beloved Lily would NEVER marry a…  [he shuddered] …  a Potter. Ha! Preposterous.)

Meanwhile, Lily continued. …  and then on our third anniversary, when…  She blushed prettily in remembrance. Sorry, Sev. I need to go find James.

After she left, Snape closed his mouth he hadn’t realized was hanging open. A penis, eh? So that’s what James has that I don’t…  We’ll just have to see about that. Why did she run away like that, anyway? …  Must’ve been disappointed, I suppose.

 

In which Severus learns how to pluck a flower.

 

The strangest things can be found only at night. When everything is dark, and the sense of sight is dulled, suddenly everything seems to be much more clear than it did during the day.

Such as the sounds of mayhem and destruction currently emanating from the Hogwarts Library. Madam Pince, the Keeper of Books and Parchments, had tried to object but was silenced with a quick cauldron to the head. With a little luck, she would be found tomorrow.

Now. Let’s see what the problem might be…  there! In what seems to be the center of destruction, a greasy haired person is sitting…  reading a book.

It has long been believed that the single most important thing about penes is their size. However, —

Snape slammed the book shut. What rubbish. As if that mattered. And what do they mean size? How is a man supposed to measure it, anyway? He looked down into his pants, where a black hole could not be seen — so to speak. I mean, I have my vernier caliper, of course. But…  but she said god-like. There must be something I can do…  After a moment’s thought, he called out, Accio Books on enlarging things! …  Ow! Ow! Ow!

Ah. I had wondered where all that destruction had come from. …  Do you think a 15lb book to the head hurts very much?

Without further comment, Snape took the book that had smashed into his face and started to read.

On size variation. Contrary to popular belief, Shrinking and Engorgio charms are not permanent. Nor can they be made permanent in any way. Potions to achieve this are known to exist, such as the Phallus Maximus potion. Research indicates that —

Slamming that book shut, too, Snape began to cackle. Yesss…  the Phallus Maximus. That’s perfect. Now where did I put that stupid potions book?

Yet again, general pandemonium ensues as Snape tries to rearrange the basic layout of the Hogwarts library.

There you are…  Moste potente Potions. Come to papa, darling. Snape lovingly hugged the book to his chest.

This potion, when brewed successfully, will enlarge your penis by a factor of 13. But beware, —

Snape gaped. 13 times!? Oh the things I could do to Lily…  Thinking about it for a moment, he concluded, You can’t keep her away from me…  POTTER!!

Looking around carefully to see if somebody heard him he turned the page, frowned at the recipe for a moment, then closed the book. This is easy.

A few minutes later.

This…  and this…  and that, and…  mustn’t forget…  what? Twice to the left, then once to the right? That’s stupid. ONCE to the left…  TWICE to the right…  and one DING against the cauldron, so the bubbles float up.

Another few minutes later.

Yess…  It’s done. Now to test it… 

Dipping a small spoon into the cauldron, he carefully brought it up to his lips. Whoa! Soap deterrent!!

…  say, did he just gulp down almost the entire cauldronful…  wait.

DRIP

…  Forget almost.

Snape looked down his pants. Ohboyohboyohboy! I think I can almost see something.

The strangest things can be found only at night. When everything is dark, and the sense of sight is dulled, suddenly everything seems to be much more clear than it did during the day.

Such as the insane laughter, with the occasional shout of Potter!, currently emanating from Hogwarts’ Potions Lab.

 

In which Severus plucks a flower — Pt 2.

 

Lily! Lily! the shouts echoed all across Potter Mansion. There was nothing they could echo off of, but such was the awesomeness that is Severus Snape.

What is it, Severus? More to the point, what in Godric’s name are you DOING here? And who let you IN? …  And I was just about to persuade James to start a little early, too…  damn.

Now…  now we can get married. He was out of breath, yes, and sweating like a white piglet after all that running just now — but by Salazar if he wasn’t going to do this right!

Lily just looked at him, confused.

Yes! I even have a penis now!

…  Huh??? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s coming on to me. Hey, don’t you remember? Still breathing hard, Severus turned to face her. Lily on the other hand turned her nose…  so it faced a little more upwind rather than downwind.

I asked you what James had that I didn’t, remember, and you told me, ‘a penis’. Well…  you’ll be glad to know that now I do. Now I can be your god. And when we’re married we can kill — I mean, kick Potter out.

And speak of the devil… 

Hey, have you seen my darling wife? James was coming down the perron, clad only in his boxer shorts. Snivellus? What are YOU doing here? …  Anyway, HAVE you seen her? I’ve been looking all over the place…  Hestia and Emmy are getting restless, but Lily’ll kill me if we start without her…  Severus just gaped at him, his eyes flicking down to James’ boxers, then back up to his face, then right back down to his boxers, then…  you get the idea.

James! I was just about to ask you to start a bit earlier than usual. But I didn’t know it was that time of the month already.

There you are, Lily darling! Yes, it is THAT TIME already, and you know how Hestia gets when she doesn’t get any for too long… . and Emmy is worse! Throwing his wife over his shoulder, James ran back up the stairs and into the manor.

…  In case you’re wondering, Severus is still gaping. But don’t worry; someone’s going to remove him from the premises soon enough, so he won’t die of hunger…  more’s the pity.

Prongs

This popped into my head earlier, anyone want to run with the idea?

Are you sure this will work Lucius? Fudge stammered, worried more for his political career than anything at this point. I know the boy is unstable, but do you honestly believe we can have him sent to Azkaban for life?

Cornelius, Lucius said in a condescending tone, were it not for Draco’s testimony, we would be lost, but who would doubt the testimony of a prominent pure-blood scion?

Very well, Fudge said, still worried, but if this backfires, you won’t be able to claim Imperious this time, you realize that, don’t you?

If this backfires, Lucius said, I doubt I would survive the Dark Lord’s punishment to even worry about that.

Just over a year later.

Harry Potter was not having a good day, although in reality, it had been a year, and saying it was not good was by far an understatement. Almost immediately upon the arrival of the Hogwarts Express after his sixth year, Harry had been arrested on suspicion of involvement in the death of Albus Dumbledore. The fact that Fudge, and his successor, Scrimgeour, neither liked the late headmaster, and in fact had both tried to have the elderly wizard sent to Azkaban multiple times, the chance to arrest the boy-who-lived and show they were doing something to curb the dark was too good to pass up. Now, nearing his 18th birthday, Harry sat once again focusing on his anger toward the wizarding world, and more specifically, some of his friends, as he had been given copies of the Daily Prophet.

Daily Prophet Interview

Harry was happy for a bit knowing that at least someone believed him innocent, even if the chances of his being granted a trial that was in any way fair was about as likely as Voldemort renouncing his magic and taking up ballet. And so, it was with the thought that the British magical world could screw themselves that Harry was surprised to look up into the eyes of three men in strange clothes, before he was taken from his cell and port-keyed to a strange place. Over the course of four days, he was treated for malnutrition, several injuries that were the result of the more brave Aurors when they were sure they wouldn’t be seen, and of course, a year around the Dementors, until he was finally introduced to his hostess, after which he almost passed out at seeing the Queen herself enter his room, especially when she informed him that if he attempted to leave his bed, she would have him strapped down.

Mr. Potter, she began, it is a little known fact that the Monarchy has the ultimate power in the British magical world. Yes, she sighed, I can completely remove the government, and am in fact looking into action that can be taken, but for now, you are to be tried again, and as your are no longer a minor, you will be questioned under Veritaserum.

Thank you Majesty, Harry croaked, before gratefully taking the water a nurse held out, what happens after that?

Simply? Harry nodded. It is your choice. I know that you have no desire to fight in a war, and with information you can provide, I can assist in your endeavour for vengeance against Riddle. Harry’s face showed shock, eliciting a chuckle as the Queen sat beside him.

Over the course of a few hours, Harry detailed to the Queen, two men from her staff, and several people who Harry assumed were wizards, what Dumbledore had told him over his sixth year. At the end of his tale, feeling very tired and sad at the loss of his Headmaster and the betrayal by many of his friends, Harry lapsed into sleep while one of the wizards spoke quietly to the Queen.

Ma’am, the man began, horcruxes are dangerous, but not impossible, to destroy. In fact, my group has been able to develop a way to locate them easily. With Mr. Potter’s information, he went on, I believe we can locate and destroy the items within a week, but, he stopped, obviously uneasy about something that the Queen picked up on and with just a look, he went on, the scar on this young man’s forehead is also a horcrux.

What?! The Queen gasped, careful to keep her voice low to allow Harry to sleep.

Yes ma’am, the man went on, we can remove it, but it cannot happen until he stronger, at least four weeks, if not six.

Very well, the Queen said, the Ministry will not be able to take action until We demand the fair and even trial, so this pushes Our plans back. Gather the other items, she said, standing, and destroy them. If what Mr. Potter said is true, the destruction of these items will allow anyone to kill this Riddle, the man nodded, very well, notify a team of our best special operatives.

When told about the plans to collect and destroy Voldemort’s horcruxes, which presumably were still out there, as Hermione was nowhere to be found and Ron now saw him, and admitted to the fact, as an attention seeking, egotistical jerk, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The news about his scar worried him, but when reassured he would not be harmed, and that any pain he felt when it was removed would minimal, Harry decided that until healthy, he couldn’t do anything about it, so decided to write a letter which would be sent to the Quibbler, Prophet, and a few select individuals, although the ones to people would have a bit of personalization to them.

Happy with the letter’s base message, Harry then sat to compose the personal messages he wanted for each person getting a copy not in the paper.

Ron — in forth year you knew I cheated, but soon realized I didn’t, and I forgave you. Well, now I won’t. You’ve betrayed me in a way that is just as horrible as what the rat you kept as a pet did to my parents. You will never amount to anything, as your jealousy will see to that. Enjoy your life, knowing you gave up a brother who would have helped you get your dreams.

Ginny — I’m happy I saw the lying, scheming, and backstabbing little bitch you are before you got your hooks into me. You and I both know I did not say what you quoted to the Prophet. Know this, I have made it very clear that despite the fact that the Weasley family could have made a familial claim to some of the Potter money if and when I die, they cannot ever again, as that cadet line has been cast out, and it is solely due to yours and Ron’s actions.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley — I only hope you did not know of your children’s thoughts, beliefs and actions. Sadly, to prevent their greed from gaining them anything, I have had to cast the Weasley cadet line from the Potter clan, but no further action will be taken. As they seemingly acted on their own, I have not included the mortgage on the Burrow in the debts I’m calling in, and in fact have stipulated that if you can satisfy my account manager that you had no part in this (and I’m sorry to say it will take Veritaserum), you’ll be debt free and own your home outright.

Seven weeks later, Harry, feeling far better than he could ever remember, was escorted by four Royal Marines, who also were wizards, into courtroom twelve, before being administered Veritaserum, after which the questioning began, with Madame Bones being the only person allowed to question him, and as such, the only person Harry could hear.

What is your name? She asked.

Harry James Potter. He answered.

Did you have any active part in the death of Albus Dumbledore?

No, I was under a body bind, hidden from view as Severus Snape cast the killing curse when Draco either couldn’t or wouldn’t.

Have you committed any crimes, aside from leaving Azkaban without Ministry authorization, in your life?

In my third year I assisted Sirius Black, whom I knew to be innocent, in escaping the Dementors sent to administer the kiss. I performed magic while underage and in the presence of a muggle, though said muggle knows of our world as he lived with me at the time.

After being given the antidote, Harry was allowed to sit on a side bench while both Snape and Malfoy were questioned, each admitting to use of unforgivable curses, Snape revealing his vow to Narcissa and his eventual killing of Dumbledore. With this revelation, Harry was cleared, at which point he not only demanded that both Snape and Malfoy be arrested and tried for murder (Snape) and attempted line theft (both Draco and Lucius), but also levied charges against almost the entire British Wizarding World.

Unfortunately, Fudge said sweetly, at least what he thought was sweetly, you cannot charge either myself, Undersecretary Umbridge, or any other Ministry Official.

I suppose you just passed a law making all ministry officials immune from prosecution, didn’t you? Fudge’s smile was all the answer he needed, and after a simple hand gesture, the Queen entered surrounded by guards. Minister, may I present Her Majesty, the Queen. Now, I’m sure she would love to see all laws passed in the last year, as from what she has told me, she has not been allowed any access, as is required by law, to those records since my arrest.

Majesty, Fudge stammered, before Umbridge broke in.

Avada Kedavra! She shouted. Filthy muggles, how dare you enter our court. Why I have, but whatever she was about to say was cut short by the rifle round that entered her forehead and left the back of her skull missing.

Now Fudge, as you can see, not only does magic not work in this room, but, he gestured to the assault weapon still held in a ready position, the weapons her Majesty’s guards brought do, now, those records?

I fail to see, Fudge began, but at the sound of over twenty rifles having rounds chambered and then pointing at him, his shoulders slumped and he acquiesced, Weatherby, the records.

Thank you Percy, I only hope you’re not too heavily involved in this. Harry murmured, then set to reading the summary of each law. Well, let’s see, the first one passed was a law giving Fudge the right to seize any and all vaults he deemed he should, though it appears Gringotts has yet to comply, is that right? Fudge paled, but remained quiet. Ah, here’s an interesting one, it’s apparently now a capital crime to even disagree with the Minister or his staff, as well as it’s now illegal to not follow any order given by a pureblood if you aren’t a pureblood, well, that would explain the Muggleborn Exodus wouldn’t it? What do you know about that? An auror, Harry didn’t know the name, yelled.

Not much, as I was in Azkaban for the past year, the auror blushed, but otherwise didn’t speak, though from trying to locate my friends who are muggleborn or otherwise not from a pure enough family, it appears your ignorance gave them their escape route. Tell me, Aurors, aside from Shacklebolt, Moody, Tonks and Bones, the four looked curious, but remained silent, how many of you have ever been to the London airport, or let alone know what an airplane is? One auror raised her hand to the first question, and five others with her to the second. Tell me, if a muggleborn, who lived a purely muggle life for eleven years wanted to vanish back into that world, what chance does a pureblood have of finding them?

But, the first auror began, but it’s the law! They should have lost their magic when they disobeyed!

Ah, here’s the crux, Harry said, apparently the Purebloods are actually arrogant, and stupid, enough to believe that magic is their slave. There is but one law of magic, and that is that you cannot give it up. You can, he went on, refuse to use it, but you cannot give it up. Magical oaths and vows not withstanding, there is no way aside from death to lose your magic. Therefore, you could pass a law, call it magically binding and say that violators would die, then read the law making black hair and green eyes on one person illegal, yet I would still be here and a wizard. So, any other monumentally stupid things you want to say?! Harry paused, but seeing no one wanting to speak, decided to continue. Very well, I’m leaving, and yes, he smirked, that means I truly am calling in all debts, though Gringotts is handling that for me. Do not attempt to find me or in any way convince, which to me would mean kidnap me and force me, to return to this cursed island, am I clear?

Perfectly Mr. Potter, The Queen said, then smiled as he vanished by port-key, now, this Ministry and Wizengamot are not only declared null, void and forfeit, but everyone currently working for either body is to be questioned by my Marines under Veritaserum before you may even consider applying in the new Government. Madame Bones, Aurors Shacklebolt, Tonks and Moody, if you would come with me? The four, now very confused and worried, people, followed the Queen, only to be questioned by her personally before she made several job offers. Amelia, I wish you to lead my new Magical Ministry, with Shacklebolt as your Undersecretary. Understand I do not wish a puppet, as well as knowing that Auror Shacklebolt will not blindly agree with you on anything. Master Auror Moody, I wish for you to run my new DMLE, with Auror Tonks as the first Chief Auror. Sadly, I fear you four are the last trustworthy people not too young to take the jobs, though hopefully we can change that in the near future, correct?

Let us hope Majesty, Amelia said, smiling as she and Tonks curtsied and the men bowed, and thank you for the trust you have shown.

Two years later, as Harry sat holding Hermione and watching the sunset from a lounge chair on the Australian beach, he began thinking about his life. Less than three years ago he had been rescued from a literal hell on earth, by the Queen no less, before being granted a fair trial, being cleared, then after pointing out less than a tenth of the bigoted and frankly, insane, laws passed during his vacation in sunny Azkaban, the Ministry and Wizengamot had been replaced and now, here he sat. Life, he decided, being married to Hermione with a child on the way, was definitely something he could get used to.

Lord of Bones

Harry opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, getting used to the bright glare of the Hospital Wing’s lighting. The dry feeling in his throat was alleviated when a blue-sleeved arm pulled down the bandages over his mouth and pressed a glass of cold water to his lips. The wizard drank thirstily; the cool liquid soothing his parched throat before the bandages were reapplied.

The wizard attempted to get out of bed, before frowning at his lack of success. He tried again.

Failure.

You’re not going anywhere for the next three days, Mr Potter! reprimanded Madam Pomfrey sternly. Your wounds need time to heal!

Wounds? Harry looked down at himself, noticing the bandages over his body and casts on three of his limbs. His right leg and left arm were in slings, and his lower face was bandaged just loosely enough to allow breathing and the intake of food and water.

Oh, right. He’d killed Voldemort, hadn’t he?

The memory of the hows and whens of the battle was a blur to him, but the last thing he could remember clearly was Voldemort’s body literally exploding into a storm of necromantic power that consumed his followers, destroying their bodies and dragging them to whatever afterlife awaited them.

He could still remember the looks of denial and horror on the faces of Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy before their bodies disintegrated.

And he’d been at ground zero.

Harry winced.

I wouldn’t recommend trying to talk, Mr Potter, said the mediwitch before her charge could open his mouth; you’re severely dehydrated and your vocal chords are still healing. A nod or a shake of the head will do, as will the occasional grunt. You’d best get some rest — no ‘buts’, Mr Potter! Savior of our world you may be, but you’re still my patient here!

The Boy-Who-Lived pouted. Pomfrey shook her head, though a small smile played about her lips.

I do believe you have some visitors, Mr Potter. Your various gifts and cards have been stored elsewhere; or else you’d be drowning in them. The nurse’s footsteps faded away as she left her patient. A much faster pace was set by a new pair of lighter footsteps, before a bushy-haired missile zoomed forward before catching herself.

Harry!

The wizard managed a weak smile as Hermione tearfully hugged him, careful not to exert too much pressure on his wounds. The brown-haired witch babbled tearfully, prompting a wry grin under the bandages.

Oh Harry, are you okay? There was this flash and they said you were hurt and -

Harry shrugged. Mrrphhm.

Hermione stared at him. Excuse me?

The wizard pointed at his throat. Mrrphhhm

… Oh. OH! the witch giggled, before sobering up. How long?

Harry held up three fingers. The witch nodded, and the two friends just faded into a calm silence.

Harry?

Hermione was blushing hard, and refused to meet his gaze. Well… I… that is, we… had some plans… 

Harry raised an eyebrow. We?

But… I think that now… this was surprising because… we were talking and had seperate ideas… .we were each going to… going to surprise you anyway, but… 

The witch stood up, still blushing. Harry’s eyes bulged as the brunette reached under her skirt and shimmied out of a very provocative set of lacy red knickers.

MMMPHRM?!

Hermione folded the knickers gently and slipped them into Harry’s shirt, whispering Consider this a promise, into his ear. The Boy-Who-Lived, for his part, made a few strangled sounds, before the witch daringly tongued his ear and then fled.

Watching her flee, Harry had just one thought as he stared at his friend’s retreating back. That’s one hell of an arse.

 

Damn, that blast really did a number on you.

Harry looked up into Angelina Johnson’s smiling face as his former Quidditch captain took a seat next to his bed. He shrugged non-commitally. Mmmphm.

Cat got your tongue? teased the Harpies-newbie playfully, snickering at the mock-indignant look on the wizard’s face. The shapely black witch stretched, easing the kinks in her muscles and inadverdantly giving the bedbound mage a glimpse at the shirt-clad curves of her impressive upper torso, before she drew out a ticket from her poket.

You know, I was saving this for Christmas or your graduation, but I think this is as good a time as any, don’t you?

Harry looked puzzled as the witch gracefully stood up and tucked the ticket into his pocket.

It’s an unlimited pass to the Holyhead Harpies Biweekly Naked Quidditch Intra-Team Match, with front-row seats, winked the witch, smirking at Harry’s gobsmacked face. And with a distinct possibility of joining in… and a locker room welcome.

Harry’s jaw dropped yet again as Angelina sauntered out.

 

Lord of Bones

BWAHAHAHAHAAA! SWEET-O!

Neville cackled madly as he burst down the hallways, hauling the large sack of ‘treasures’ behind him with surprising ease. He dangled a lacy pink bra from his fingers, giggling madly as he hauled it back into the sack. From the raging mob behind him, he heard an outraged shriek from the undergarment’s owner.

Lazily, he reached out and plucked away a seventh-year Ravenclaw’s knickers as he passed her, savoring the feel of the lacy garments as the stunned shriek echoed behind him.

So many silky darlings, so little time!

Get him!

And the others were joining the fun too, he thought gleefully, dodging the red bolt of force a raging Hermione hurled.

Alas, all good things had to come to an end, and Neville came to a screeching halt in front of a dead end. Behind him, he heard the angry footsteps come to a stop. Very slowly, Neville turned around, smiling nervously.

Uh… just a bit of fun, no harm done, he gulped, noticing the murderous look in Lavender’s normally cheerful grey eyes.

Nowhere to run, Longbottom, growled Daphne, her two dirks glinting dangerously.

Take your punishment like a man! hissed Parvati, her scimitars crossed.

Neville ‘urk’ed.

Wait!

All eyes turned to the surprising voice of protest.

Susan? asked a surprised Hermione, lowering her longsword.

We can’t hurt him!

Why the hell not?! roared Pansy. The busty strawberry blonde gave her Slytherin yearmate a look.

Think about it — why on earth would Neville, of all people, be stealing underwear? It’s too much of a leap in character for him!

The girls looked at each other doubtfully as a softly smiling Susan approached the trapped Longbottom. It’s alright Neville. You can tell us what happened… 

The brown-haired teen looked at the witch with shining eyes. All I wanted was to feel like I was actually worthwhile, that I could actually do something…  sniffled the young wizard; I mean, everyone thinks I’m worthless and that I have no confidence in myself… 

The witches looked at each other, feeling slightly guilty as Susan approached the sniffling boy.

Oh Susan, you truly understand me… 

Susan stopped at the odd note in Neville’s voice.

So please, comfort this poor young man in the warmth of your bosom!

Wha-EEK!

Neville cackled, burying his face in Susan’s cleavage as he glomped her, before leaping off onto the nearest witch — Hermione — and giving her firm bottom a good squeeze, and continuing on to the other witches.

Die!

The chase went on.

 

Harry whistled to himself as he stepped out of the RoR-made shower, tying a towel around his waist as he did so. After a good night’s sleep and a quick self-delusion of the events of the previous day being a hallucination, he was ready to start the new day.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that Neville, still chortling, was heading down the outside corridor while being pursued by a vengeful mob. The Knicker Thief yanked open the door to the room… and promptly slipped on the wet, soapy floor as Harry watched in astonishment.

Up went the sack, just as the mob stormed in.

And down it came on the wet, dripping, towel-clad Boy-Who-Lived.

Lord of Bones

Harry could honestly say that things had changed significantly ever since the fateful day he’d placed his ad in the Prophet.

For one thing, he’d dropped the habit of sleeping in the nude.

He could also say, without an iota of doubt, that he’d taken more cold showers in the past two weeks than he had in all twenty-four years of his life.

And it looked that there were even more cold showers on the horizon, if the scene in front of him was anything to go by.

Harry gulped desperately, trying to look at anything but the expanse of cleavage Daphne’s uniform revealed when she bent over to fill his teacup. The black-haired woman stood up again, resulting in a hypnotic bounce that would’ve had her pinned to the wall with her knickers torn off, had her employer been a less strong-willed individual.

As it was, it took all of Harry’s willpower not to snap. The last ‘incident’ with Daphne and Astoria had sorely tested the restraints of his libido.

He could still picture Daphne’s palm coming down on — he counted backwards from fifty, slowly.

Even retreating to the library didn’t help; not with Hermione there to provide him with an interesting view.

The wizard forced himself to listen to what Fleur was saying. The blonde part-Veela had just entered, and was now speaking about —

Security? Harry asked, surprised.

Fleur nodded, looking pleased with herself. Oui, Master. We have interviewed ze candidates and we are pleased to inform you zat we have selected ze best for ze jobs.

And when was I going to be told about this?

Fleur gasped. Mon dieu! Please Master, we thought that you would be too busy for something so trivial. We are so sorry, Master! Please, we must be punished for such disregard of your thoughts!

Judging from the way the blonde vixen had purred out the word ‘punish’, Harry already regretted his next words. Maybe later. He felt his inner-self start a jig and chant We’re gonna get some!

He drop-kicked his inner-self as Fleur lead in the Security candidate.

Harry’s eyes bugged out. Su-Susan?!

Hi Boss! chirped Susan Bones cheerfully. The busty redhead wore a smart-looking, dark blue uniform shirt that complemented her uniform skirt.

That was about as official as it got, though. The shirt moulded tightly to Susan’s upper torso, proudly showcasing her gravity-defying bust, while her skirt was so short that Harry was certain he’d get a free show if she did so much as lean over slightly. Topping the ensemble was a pair of thigh-length, dark leather heels.

Harry suddenly felt the urge to stock up on Kleenex.

’

I wanted to put Tonks there, but oh well.

Hopefully we’ll get a continuation to Housekeeping Arrangements 88A from BSJinx, but hey, no pressure.

<evil smile>

Finbar

Harry twitched.

It had been only two days since his new staff of maids had been hired and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

Hermione had volunteered to clean the library. Sure, that would have been fine if he hadn’t forgotten just how much the girl liked her books. He had forgotten to tell her about just how big the library was and now, he would never look at the library in the same way. At least, not without developing an uncomfortable tightness in his pants that came from seeing his best friend, bent over, rubbing her thighs together as she polished a shelf containing a row of books, all over a thousand years old. The sensual moans and whimpers of delight as she caresses the spines had him almost fleeing, if he wasn’t so entranced by the way her behind, clad in sheer, white, see through panties was moving.

Then had come Gabrielle and her waking him up for work that morning. She had somehow modified her uniform to be even tighter and more revealing that the others and the sight of an incredibly seductive blonde, crawling up the bed to ‘wake him’ had sent him fleeing to the shower. He had to get out of the habit of sleeping in the nude it seemed. That she had knocked on the door and offered to help him bathe… well… mornings would seem to be ripe with stress now.

Then, came the sight in front of him. He had come home after an annoying day of Ernie deciding that he needed yet more paperwork and somehow made it fireproof. Fleur had met him at the door to take his cloak and if he Occlumency hadn’t been so good, he’d have been bowled over by her Veela charm. Struggling his way through it, he was lead to the parlor, seated in his favourite chair and informed that his tea would be delivered in a moment. That Fleur had been massaging his shoulders at the time just seemed to make him more tense.

Master, your tea. Came the sensual purr of Astoria Greengrass, as she pushed in the silver trolley which had a tea set perched upon it.

It seemed that the younger of the two sisters had been practising in making her movements as sensual as possible, each movement designed to heighten her form and appear as seductive as possible, leaving Harry blushing faintly, even with his iron self control.

However, it seemed the poor girls wasn’t as used to walking in high heels as she acted and she managed to stumble while carrying his tea over, and the cup spilt down her front.

Astoria! The outraged voice of the older of the two sisters was scandalised. How dare you spill our masters tea after he has had such a hard…  there seemed to be a bit of emphasis on the word day at the office. Now you are all wet and have tea all over your barely clothed chest.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, while Fleur continued her massage.

You naughty girl! Daphne really did seem shocked. You will need to be punished for making such a mess you know!

But, Sister! Astoria turned her puppy dog eyes to her big sister, who was armed with, of all things, a feather duster. It was an accident! I didn’t mean to spill Master’s tea all over my chest, leaving my uniform almost transparent.

Daphne shook her head. No, you will need to be punished! Master? What sort of punishment should she get? Should she be forced to do her work in the nude? Be put on rations of bread and water and be made to eat out of a dog bowl, at your feet while you eat dinner? Or will a spanking suffice?

Harry, going a little more red just nodded, as his self control fought his libido. A spanking will be fine was all he managed to squeak out.

Really? Daphne seemed a little disappointed. Well, since you are such a kind and generous master. Would you like to give her the spanking she so richly deserves? It is your right as her master to bend her over your lap, lower her barely decent panties and spank her behind until her cheeks are red!

Harry paused in shock. Fighting valiantly, his self control barely in check, he shook his head while he swallowed and tried to regain his voice.

No? Daphne nodded and purred slightly Then as her sister, I shall do it. To make sure she is punished properly.

Making her way to one of the chairs, she perched on the edge and looked at Astoria Very well sister, bend over my lap

Astoria, a tear rolling down her cheek, nodded and moved to bend over her sisters lap. That Harry had a prime view of the sheer, panty clad behind was complete coincidence. He stiffened as the panties were pulled down, not revealing as much as some might hope, but as the feminine hand crashed down on the cheek and the count of One was announced, it was enough to have him fleeing the room, in search of a bathroom where he could, escape the scene in front of him.

He never knew that having maids could be so stressful. Perhaps it wasn’t even worth not enduring the lecture Hermione would give him if he got some elves.

EthanC

This is just a little thing I just wrote quickly to help restart my creative juices. If it’s been done before, I’m sorry. I own none of it.

Harry Potter sat stiffly on a stool that was pulled up to the bar in the Frolicking Leprachaun. It was the pub that Seamus Finnegan had opened after he had graduated Hogwarts. Harry was currently sitting hunched over, teeth clenched, white knuckled as he firmly grasped the bottle in his hands. His posture was screaming to anyone that cared to notice that he was beyond angry. The Master of Death was, in fact, furious.

The reason Harry was so hacked off was sitting two barstools down, loudly chatting up three incredibly attractive witches who were hanging on the wizard’s every lying word. The twenty year old wizard could only vaguely recognize the witches as having been in Hogwarts at the same time as him, but knew no more about them.

I’m tellin’ you, slurred Ron, he may be The Chosen One, but I’m the real reason You-Know-Who is dead. There’s no way Harry could’ve defeated him without me. Hell, Harry can barely wipe his own arse without my help. In fact, during the final battle, Harry wet himself twice and wouldn’t stop crying until I smacked some sense into him. He wanted to just run away, so I all but had to carry him out to face his destiny.

The three witches tittered and giggled and leaned closer to the drunken Weasley. Harry’s teeth ground together and a crack formed in the bottle he held in his fists.

I mean, the redhead continued, completely oblivious to the hellfire that was about to rain down on him, if he had just let me deal with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named alone, the war would’ve been over years earlier. I would have barely broken a sweat! He wasn’t so scary, anyway.

The breathy oohs and aahs coming from the witches gathered around Ron were cut off by the sound of glass shattering a barstool being knocked over.

Is that so, Ron? Snarled Harry as he stood, arms crossed and emerald eyes glowing in rage.

Erm, said the youngest male Weasley, hi Harry. Listen, I didn’t mean it. I was just messing about with all that stuff. I know you didn’t want me to say all that in public.

No, no, Ron, said Harry, suddenly calm, I wouldn’t want you to have to take anything back. I mean, you have these ladies on the edges of their seats, surely you wouldn’t want them to think you were deceiving them, would you?

Ron opened his mouth to attempt to diffuse his friend’s anger, but was cut off by a smirking Harry, No, I think they deserve some proof, don’t you?

Ah, Harry, said the redhead as he nervously looked around the room for an escape. He knew that a calm Harry was a deadly Harry. You-Know-Who is dead. It’s not like I could defeat him again.

An excellent idea, Ron, exclaimed Harry as he smirked and snapped his fingers. Shocked silence filled the room as the Master of Death snapped his fingers causing a column of black flame to appear in the middle of the room.

Out of the flames stepped the Dark Lord Voldemort in all his snake-faced, red eyed glory. The evil man focussed immediately on Harry and hissed, Potter! You won’t escape me this time!

The Boy-Who-Lived completely ignored the newly re-resurrected Dark Lord and turned to his pale as a ghost redheaded friend and said condescendingly, Well, have at him. Save us all.

Ron’s response was to soil himself, twice, shriek like a five year old girl and faint dead away. The three witches were staring at the unconscious boy with shock, terror, and disgust.

Now, Harry said as he negligently snapped his fingers again, painfully banishing the Dark Lord once more to his eternity of torment in a column of black flame. What say you three come back to my place and I show you why being a parselmouth isn’t such a bad skill to have. I don’t think Hermione and Daphne are quite recovered from this afternoon, so they should enjoy the relief you’ll provide tonight.

The three awed witches quickly surrounded the Man-Who-Conquered-Again, making sure to tightly press their supple bodies to him as much as possible. To help with the side-along apparation, of course. With a seductive smirk on his face, Harry snapped his fingers again and the four of them disappeared in a column of green flame.

cloudtobias

This short one shot was inspired by the greed for money. My brother said there was no way I could pull off this crossover and that he would put up 50 bucks.
Needless to say, I’m now 50 dollars richer.
Enjoy you guys, I have booze to buy.

Harry James Potter, where have you been?

All was well in Harry Potter’s life. After taking a brief summer vacation courtesy of his godfather’s negligence in locking away extremely dark books in the Black Library, Harry Potter had returned in a blaze of glory. Missing for most of the summer after his fourth year, Harry was found by the smoldering rubble of once had been the Riddle House. The still smoking corpses of Voldemort & Wormtail were lying next to the smiling teenager as the Aurors had arrested him. After days of questioning with only a shocked Headmaster as his council, Harry Potter was released with an Order of Merlin (1st Class) in one hand and his godfather’s pardon in the other.

Harry had been released just in time for the start of his fifth year at Hogwarts. He had barely made it to Great Hall for the feast but had just missed the year’s sorting. Now he was being accosted by his friends, especially a bushy haired, brilliant, and beautiful witch.

I missed you too, Hermione. Harry said, grinning. He was still dressed in the same stranger clothes (at least to wizards) that he had been found in. He had a red and white ballcap jammed on his head, blue jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt with an unbuttoned blue and white jacket on. He had a black knapsack slung over one shoulder and was grinning widely. It was only thanks to cleaning and freshening charms that he didn’t stink.

Don’t you take that tone with me, Harry! Hermione snapped, stamping a foot. Where have you been?

Yeah mate and tell us if the rumours are true, did you really beat You-Know-Who? Ron asked. Harry shrugged, still smiling.

Well technically, I didn’t beat him but I did help! As for where I was, it’s was some place, far away from here. The Ministry made me swear an Unbreakable vow not to tell people since I left the book that took me there with some friends there. But I do have some presents for you guys! Harry responded, slinging his bag off his shoulder. He opened the main pouch and began to dig threw it.

Um, Harry, perhaps you should do this later? If you give your friends their gifts here the other students will almost certainly want to see the ones you have. And it might be crowded in the hall with some of your larger friends. Professor Dumbledore called out from the staff table. Harry paused, and looked up with a sheepish laugh.

I’m sorry Professor, I guess I got caught up with seeing my friends. Harry mused. Professor Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.

That’s quite alright Harry. Perhaps after the feast we can all head down to the lake so you can give your friends their gifts and perhaps show off yours since I assume we’ll be seeing them a lot from now on?

Of course Professor!

 

After the feast no one, not even Draco Malfoy, went to their dorms. Everyone followed Harry to the lake’s edge where the Giant Squid was lazing about. The sun had set long before but the Headmaster conjured tiki torches to light the area and to allow everyone to see. Harry dug into his knapsack again but this time pulled out two marble sized balls. He pressed a button on each and they expanded to roughly the size of a soft ball. One was dark blue in color and the other was half red and half white. Harry handed the blue one to Ron and the other to Hermione.

Now press your thumb over the button and hold it there! Wait until it chimes before pressing it again to release the monster! It has to register you as the owner since these are gifts. Harry chirped. Hermione and Ron did so while they stared at Harry.

A monster? Hermione asked, cautiously. Harry nodded, smiling.

A pocket monster, actually. Pokemon for short.

A pokemon? Hermione muttered, eying the ball. She glanced at Headmaster Dumbledore who smiled reassuringly. Both balls chimed and before Hermione could respond Ron eagerly pressed the button on his. A bright light shot out of the ball and hit the ground, expanding and growing, taking shape before fading. Where the beam struck the ground was Ron’s… pokemon. It looked like a cross with a half salamander/half hippopotamus creature, with bright pink skin and white paws and tail tip. It looked around slowly before locking a blank stare with Ron who was staring at it in awe.

Sloooooooooooooooooooooooowpooooooooooooke. The Slowpoke moaned. It made an extremely slow and long amble to Ron, before against Ron’s knees with the side of it’s body.

This is brilliant! Ron exclaimed. This startled his Slowpoke which would eventually show this surprise on its face tomorrow.

I was going to get him a Growlithe, but then I heard about Slowpokes. Harry said to Hermione in a whisper. All they do is sleep, eat and amble around. Plus they’re incredibly stupid.

Hermione had a feeling Harry was playing with them and glanced at her own pokeball with trepidation. Harry of course saw and grinned.

No worries Hermione, yours is actually pretty cool. I got her from another trainer who couldn’t handle her. Turns out her pokemon was smarter than she was! Harry laughed, but scratched his head in embarrassment. She’s actually smarter than the average pokemon too but Oak says that happen occasionally. Something about being city raised.

Hermione gave Harry one last look before sighing. Then she gently pressed the button on her ball. A brief burst of light and Hermione’s gift formed at her feet.

It was a small creature, standing on its hind legs it barely reached Hermione’s knees. It had short yellow fur with large yellow ears tipped black. Short brown stripes adorned its back and a red circle on each cheek. It’s tail went straight out from it’s back, shaped like a lighting bolt with a small heart shaped curl at the end. It shook its head before looking around. It saw Harry and seemed to smile.

Pika! It cried before jumping into his arms. Harry laughed before scratching it behind its ears. The small mouse seemed to purr.

Hermione, this is Zippy the Pikachu. Zippy this is the girl I told you about, Hermione. She’s your trainer now. Harry informed the small mouse. The Pikachu turned to Hermione who was watching with wide eyes. It sniffed at her a bit with it’s little nose before leaping again. This time it landed on Hermione’s right shoulder, making her freeze.

Pi! Zippy cried, before rubbing it’s cheek against Hermione’s. Hermione shivered as she felt a small bit of static electricity pass between girl and mouse when their cheeks met. Zippy began to do its little purr again and Hermione felt her heart beginning to melt.

That’s it Potter? Draco sneered from the crowd of watching students and staff. A yellow rat and dimwitted pink slug? What do you have, a giant chicken?

Actually Malfoy, Harry replied with a smirk, I have six, all of which I used to defeat Voldemort. Want to see?

Show us Potter! Draco demanded. Harry’s smirk widened and he clipped the first ball off his belt. He expanded it and casually tossed it out. The light expanded into the largest creature so far, one that was just taller than Hagrid.

But not by much.

It had red skin with a tan belly that ran the underside of it’s tail, the tip of which was blazing with large fire. It had huge wings, thin but strong looking arms, and thick, massive legs. It had a long neck that reached it’s head that had two horns.

This my Charizard, Torch! Harry announce. He sauntered over to dragon and leaned against it smugly. Isn’t he kick arse?

As if to dare anyone to challenge this statement, Torch threw his head back and roared before shooting a stream of fire into the night air. The students, especially the Slytherins, all shivered as they realized Harry Potter literally had a dragon in his pocket.

This did not bode well.

Everyone was staring at the dragon who was now gazing around, taking in its surroundings. No one saw Harry move to the edge of the lake, and switch balls. Everyone’s eyes snapped to Harry as another light came from the new ball and shot into the water.

This my second pokemon! I caught him after I got Torch and raised him from a Magikarp! Meet my Gyarados, Kraken! The water’s edge exploded in a plume of water as a long, serpentine shake shot up.

And up…

… and up…

… and, well you get the picture don’t you?

It had a long, serpentine body with yellow under side and the rest of it blue. It had a sectional body, each section along it’s body with large sharp fins with white tips. It had a rather large mouth with large, sharp teeth. It opened its mouth to roar, and it seemed to delight in making most of the students move away from it.

Next we have Spooky, the Haunter! Harry declared deciding to move along as the students seemed to be getting paler with each monster. He released the next monster which appear in the air. Some of the students shrieked as they saw the ghost pokemon. Spooky the Haunter, was mostly shadowy head with two disembodied hands. Purple in color, Spooky’s mouth was red with a large tongue. It’s eyes were also large and completely white with small black pupils. It quickly flew around Harry cackling which made Harry laugh. Then it vanished from sight before reappearing in the mass of students, making most of them shriek.

Ha-Ha-Haunter! Spooky laughed, pleased with itself.

The next two monsters were a relief to to the students. One was a cute large yellow fox called a Jolteon which Harry had named Dash. Dash was an instant hit with the girls of the class who giggled at the sight of the proud fox. It strutted about and enjoyed the attention of the girls who cooed at it and stroked it’s spike yellow fur and white mane.

The next was large pokemon with dark purple coloring and white underside. A large horn was adorned on it’s hea dand it had a long, thick tail. It stomped as it walked shaking the ground. It seemed to flex every once and while shopwing off. Harry called it a Nidoking which he had named Hagrid. The friend Harry had named it after was touched and spent the rest of the time examining the Nidoking.

And this is my most powerful pokemon. Harry said, pulling out and black ball with a golden M stenciled on it. The student became extremely nervous but as the creature took shape everyone had to blink in shock. It was a small creature, about the same size as Zippy. It had a thin tail almost twice as long as it’s body. It was pink in color with large, innocent blue eyes. It shivered in the September weather and let out a small cry before bubble popped into place around it. It looked like some sort of cat.

This is Mew, the Mew! Harry replied. Mew laughed happily, giving it’s own cry of Mew before floating above the students. Most of the students watched in awe, it’s presence making most of the them feel happy and carefree. It would stop above one on occasion, and happily whirl around them, giving off carefree cries of Mew! before moving on. The students eventually caught on to what it wanted and those that could began to conjure sparks or tunes from their wands. Mew cried happily, dancing around to the students delight.

That pitful pink thing is the strongest you have, Potter? You must be barking!

Three guesses to who said that, and the first two don’t count.

Not at all, Malfoy. Harry replied with a grin. He turned from blonde pounce to his carefree pokemon. Mew, do you mind coming here for a second?

Mew gave a happy chirp. It disappeared in a wink of color before reappearing on Harry’s head. It pawed his hat off, making him laugh as it began to mess at his eternally messy hair.

Mind showing off a bit? Harry asked the playful pokemon.

Mew! it cried, obviously liking the idea. Harry pointed to a tree on the edge of the Forbidden forest.

Mew, Hyper Beam! Harry called. The small pink pokemon looked up from it’s trainer’s hair, opening it’s small pink mouth. Golden energy gathered there for just a moment before an enormous golden beam exploded from the pokemon’s small mouth. Neither pokemon or trainer were hurt by the blast but the tree the beam hit was annihlated and the surrounding area was engulfed in flames.

Harry turned to the gawking students and staff as Mew flew down from his head to rest in his arms. Harry scratched it behind the ears, making it purr.

Any questions?

BSJinx

It was inevitable that someone would write a drabble like this, in light of David Yates’ comments earlier this week. Whether it would be a good drabble? I leave that to you. (As for the number, I’ve lost track.)
And yes, Hellish, I’ll have my other stories updated at some point in the indefinite future.

From Deathly Hallows, p. 377 US hardcover:

Who wouldn’t prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him, crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met.

On the ground in front of them, Ron’s face filled with anguish. He raised the sword high, his arms shaking.

 

Suddenly, a third figure appeared from the side and joined the projections coming from the Horcrux. She was a tall, athletic black woman whom the others recognized immediately.

Mmmm, Hermione, you have such good taste, purred Riddle-Angelina, for her it was. She then turned toward Ron, who stood as if frozen, sword still in hand. You really thought that I was interested in your brother, Ron? I only spoke to those disgusting twins so that I could try to get closer to Harry. Her voice lowered conspiratorially. Don’t you remember seeing him in the shower? Hermione, let him go just a moment. Hermione did so, to give Ron an unimpeded view of Harry’s front.

You and your brothers combined couldn’t compete with that, Ron. And now that I have the chance, I fully expect to give him a good…  long…  hard…  ride. With your help, Hermione, of course, she moaned, slinking around behind Harry’s shoulder.

Before any of the trio could recover from this shock, another projected figure entered their view.

Zat brother of yours is ‘ung like a boiled stalk of celery, Ronald, the svelte blonde Riddle-Fleur started. No woman would ever be with ‘im unless ‘e ‘ad access to ozzers ‘oo could truly satisfy ‘er. She strode in between Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione. Turning to the first, she cooed. Et you zought zat would be you? Such a ridiculous idea! Veela know about ze sexual energies of zeir potential mates. You couldn’t light a match wiz yours, but zese two, she continued, squeezing the shoulders of the first projected pair, zey could light a fire that could never be put out. ‘Ermione, you looked ravishing in red at ze wedding; you were ze best thing about it. I’d like to see you in zat dress again…  and out of it, she purred, strutting around to stand behind Riddle-Hermione.

By now the real-world trio were completely catatonic, unable to remember anything that they had planned to do.

A fifth projection now entered their view. Unlike the others, this tall black-haired woman actually wore clothes, even if only a corset that lifted and compressed her impressive breasts.

My agents have done their job well, Riddle-Bella purred. They need never know why I have asked for these two to be brought to me. The Dark Lord needn’t know either. He thinks I’ve brought them in to torture them and learn their secrets. But that wasn’t necessary, she boasted, walking behind Riddle-Fleur and Riddle-Angelina, slapping them on the buttocks and causing them to yelp in pleased surprise. My husband and his brother’s attentions had to end, and these ladies made it clear that I’d be much, much better off if I captured Not-so-ickle Potter, she laughed, causing the others to laugh with her.

We’ll do anything for you, Potter and Granger. As for the Dork Lord… 

I told her about a saying that Muggles have- ‘No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will really cramp his style.’ We believe we’re ready to…  test that hypothesis, Riddle-Angelina said.

We are in the clearing just north of you. Bring this locket and that sword of yours, Potter- and that pigsticker of Gryffindor’s, too, she guffawed, causing another round of laughter.

There was no more dialogue coming from the locket. Slowly, Harry and Hermione turned around to face Ron, still frozen in confusion (and, they noted with unease, lust). As one, they drew their wands, pointed them at Ron, and yelled, STUPEFY!

When Ron awoke several hours later, his companions, the sword, and the locket were all gone, leaving him alone in the woods.

 

A few days later, in the middle of his New Year’s address, Minister of Magic Pius Thicknesse suddenly halted and collapsed. It quickly became clear, from several other similar cases around the Ministry, that he had been under an Imperius spell that had suddenly been cut off. The reason for this became obvious a few hours later, when the body of Voldemort appeared in the Ministry atrium, Gryffindor’s sworded embedded in his back.

Of his two plausible successors, Lucius Malfoy lay dead at Malfoy Manor with his throat cut, while Bellatrix Lestrange was nowhere to be found. (Neither was Narcissa formerly-Malfoy, for that manner.)

Over the next couple of days, the remaining Ministry collaborators saw their colleagues turn on them like the wrath of God; those few who survived capture were thrown through the Veil, as were the immobilized Imperius victims.

As for Ron, he was the only one of the Trio who could be found, and thus he’d like out the rest of his days as a conquering hero, even if he never knew exactly why or how.

 

A certain mansion stands near the Mediterranean coast not far from Marseilles. It was one of the lesser properties of the Black family, abandoned for some years before being rehabilitated for its current occupants.

One of these was the tall, golden-blonde woman riding a black-haired man toward her fourth orgasm of the morning, while a black woman had just screamed and fell over after his tongue had brought her to her third. Next to them on their huge bed, a brunette lay sandwiched between a black-haired woman and a part-Veela with silver-blonde hair, their fingers touching themselves and each other as they watched the show.

Incredible, isn’t he? gasped Hermione as Fleur’s index finger rubbed her in a particularly sensitive spot.

Shame we couldn’t go back to England, though, Angelina moaned, just now becoming aware enough to enter the conversation.

It was… . AAAAHHHHH!… . worth it, Narcissa screamed as she came and collapsed on her lover’s chest.

Bellatrix chuckled in agreement. Me next, little sister… 

Ralph S.

Inspired by one of LoB’s posts.

Slowly, Harry trudged up to #12 Grimmauld, finally free of the Dursleys.

For now.

He had barely opened the front door when a shout could be heard from the inside:

Hermi-Hug!!!

Then, a dark-haired… something slammed into him, alternating kisses, I’ve missed You’s, and not-quite-so-innocent gropes all over him.

Ron, meanwhile, had also arrived at the front door, looking on with a stony expression.

Finally, just as Hermione let go of Harry to get a better look at her fiancé-to-be, he called, Oi! what about me?

Hermione turned and grinned at Ron, nodding her agreement. Ron closed his eyes, spreading his arms in anticipation.

Hermi-Kick!

Hey, that’s not what you said earli… 

Lord of Bones

What if Voldemort’s grip on a broken Harry was far, far greater than what anyone had ever realized?
Very short.

Soft, mocking laughter cut through the Hall as Dolores Umbridge finished her speech; sardonic clapping accompanying the noise as several heads turned to identify the source of the disturbance.

It was the standing Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry! hissed Hermione, tugging at his robe. The wizard ignored her and, in a surprising display of acrobatics, somersaulted over the Gryffindor table.

Bravo, bravo, Madam Umbridge! congratulated the Boy-Who-Lived enthusiastically, his robes swirling around him dramatically as he strode to the Head Table. The young wizard’s smile seemed almost acidic as he leaned down towards the falsely-smiling Ministry worker.

There is, however, one thing that I would like to know.

And what would that be, Mr. Potter? sneered the witch.

Harry closed his eyes, then opened them again, making eye contact with the pink-clad woman. Tell me, asked the red-eyed teen curiously, am I truly a myth?

Dolores’ face blanched as the boy’s wand rose, wordlessly blasting her with a sickly bolt of darkness that left her convulsing and frothing on the floor. With almost contempous ease, the wizard spun around while tracing a rune in the air with his free hand; conjuring a flesh-searing gale that slammed the staff against the far wall. Icy hands of shadow reached from the brick and held them in place.

The teen smiled cruelly as he made eye-contact with a stunned Dumbledore.

Hello Albus, said Lord Voldemort.

Very, very slowly, Dumbledore’s face turned white. Oh gods…  he whispered, somehow broadcasting the horrified utterance to the entirety of the terrified Great Hall.

The gods? Voldemort chuckled. I’m afraid you won’t be seeing them for a long, long time.

Cypher3au

Harry stared silently at Tonks’ eager face before glancing down at the gift she given him. Resting in his right hand was a small black box, not unlike the boxes rings came in, and when he clumsily flipped open the lid he found a glass dome, beneath which was a single six-sided die… Harry vaguely remembered seeing something similar on several of Dudley’s board games. Unlike regular dice, though, the die beneath the bubble had small pictures on each face instead of numbers; a red cross, a pair of handcuffs, a hufflepuff badger, a feather duster, and a birthday cake.

Tilting the box to tip over the dice and find out what was on the sixth and final side, Harry blinked and mumbled curiously as the die refused to budge from its place.

It’ll only move if you ‘pop’ it. Tonks pointed out helpfully, then pulled out a second similar box from her robes, which she tapped with her wand. And you can only pop it when its brother is activated.

Hm. Gently pushing down on the dome sent the die catapulting about inside of its container with a cheery popping noise. When the die settle down, the top-most face conveniently showed the previously obscured face, with a tiny pair of stockings and garters painted onto the surface. Mmm?

Tonks’ bubble rattled briefly, and after a quick glance at the die she grinned, setting the box aside and standing from her seat. A flick of her wand sent the curtains sliding around the bed, concealing the pair from the rest of the ward, and once they had a little privacy Nymphadora set her wand down and reached for the fastenings of her robes.

Harry’s eyes widened as Tonk’s crimson Auror robes dropped carelessly to the floor, revealing the lingerie she wore underneath; pink thigh-high stockings, garters, thong underwear and corset, all with swirling patterns and lacey black trim.

The shapely metamorphmagus posed playfully, turning this way and that, even giving her own perfect rear a firm spank. Like that? She laughed when Harry mumbled enthusiatically, then bent over to pick up her robes, pulling them back on to Harry’s obvious disappointment. Sorry Stud, but you’re in no shape to get ridden, and there’s no way Pomfrey will leave us alone long enough for me to really blow you; she doesn’t tolerate those kinds of shenanigans in her hospital wing, believe me. She rolled her eyes as she finished buttoning up her robes, then slid the curtain around the bed back. Just consider this incentive to get well soon, and to give me a ‘pop’ as soon as you get out of here. She leaned in close and gave the teenaged wizard a peck on the cheek, and a quick nibble on his earlobe, whispering huskily. Between you and me, I don’t mind if you’ve already got female company when you give me a call, if you know what I mean.

All the battered wizard could do to respond was gape, with a little strangled choking thrown in for good measure.

With a flirty wink, the Auror plucked up her wand and box and all but skipped out of the hospital wing, almost colliding with Harry’s next visitor on her way out. Oop, sorry Frenchie!

Zat’s alright, Tonks, just… try to be more careful around ze ‘ospital wing. Shaking her head as the pinkette vanished around the corner, the silver-blonde veela turned to the hospital wing’s sole prisoner. Ow are you feeling, ‘Arry?

For the first time since the final battle, Harry was glad that he was currently incapable of speech, because the first answer that sprang to mind and burbled incoherently past his chapped lips was ‘hard… very very hard’.

Ralph S.

I really didn’t want to do this. But it wouldn’t leave me alone.

Sweet-O! Shouting and cackling, a twisted daemon sped through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft, Wizardry and Something Else That Isn’t Talked About, dragging his sack behind him.

(Must be Neville. Anyway.)

What a haul!

Absently turning a corner to hopefully shake off the mob, Neville looked over his shoulder to see if he had lost the girls. Or even — heaven forbid! — something else.

Only to run smack into Severus Snape, Hogwarts’ Acting Potions Master.

Longbottom! No running in the halls! 50 points from Gryffindor!

Neville looked up at him and sneered… like an amateur. Oh, bite me, Snape!

Severus gaped for a moment, then grabbed the idiot by the front of his robes.

Never. Say. Bite me. To a V— Urk!

Whatever he had been about to say was drowned by the mob stomping all over him.

My silky darlings…  All gone! You’ll pay for that, Snape!

Severus couldn’t help but shudder at the mad gleam in the scrawny Gryffindor’s eyes.

Lord of Bones

Here’s another short one.

Dumbledore looked on proudly at the assembled members of the Order of the Phoenix; all of which had come to finally see this finished. Flamboyant robes and outlandish attire were the dresscode; but Dumbledore’s eyes turned to Ryan Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

The Champion of the Light.

Around them, the Potters, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys; all the families of the Light stood prepared for the final battle.

Dumbledore gave Ryan a smiling nod. Every sacrifice he had made — and had others make — would be worth it in this final hour. Even now, only he could see the slightly glazed looks on the eyes of the elder Potters, Sirius and Remus.

Every sacrifice.

Triumphantly, the youngest Potter strode to the doors of Voldemort’s fortress-mansion, raising his wand to blast open the door… 

Then the massive double-doors swung out in grim invitation. Ryan stopped, uncertain.

Dumbledore moved forward, startled. Had Tom expected this? Quickly, the old mage and the rest of the Order flanked their Hero and ushered themselves on.

And immediately wished they hadn’t.

Death Eaters, their bodies maimed and disfigured, littered the hallway. Some were burnt beyond recognition, others looked as though they had been doused in acid. One or two had body parts disintegrated, some were withered husks, others looked frozen, some even had their dripping blood hissing as it burned a hole through the floor. Only a token few were unmarred, instantly slain by death magic. Flames burnt around holes in the walls and floor; all signs of a massive spell duel.

Some, strangely enough, looked battered and crushed. A few even had puncture wounds.

Footsteps drew their attention as the frenzied form of Draco Malfoy ran out, blood leaking through his fingers as he tried to keep his entrails from spilling out.

Help me, ple— His scream was cut off when a huge snake descended from the ceiling and caught him in fanged jaws before vanishing into the shadows once again; a tortured scream the only reminder of the wizard’s presence.

Then something came flying out of the shadows, landing in Ryan’s arms. The boy took a glance at it and screamed.

Sickened, Dumbledore recognized the decapitated head of Lord Voldemort.

You once told my brother that the power Voldemort knew not was love, Professor.

As one, the Order of the Phoenix looked up to the foot of the stairs.

A tall young man in deep black robes stood there; dripping blood and ichor. He pocketed the Dark Lord’s wand, all the while smiling malevolently. On his left breast, the snake crest of Slytherin was displayed.

Harry Potter’s brilliant emerald-green eyes — his mother’s eyes — met with Dumbledore’s bright blue.

I guess even the best of us can be wrong.

The words were said mockingly as Harry stepped forward, chuckling madly as the great snake descended from above to land behind him like a meek hound. The ranks of the Order swept apart like the Red Sea as the Destroyer of Voldemort walked past them, the frigid mantle of the Dark gathering around him like a proud father.

With his back still to them, Harry raised a hand in farewell.

See you.

Then he was gone.

Lord of Bones

There was something to be said about old ancestral manors, Harry Potter decided, and that something was that they accumulated dirt and grime the way Madam Zabini accumulated husbands. He sneezed again, brushing aside the flecks of dust with an irritated wave of his hand.

The mansion, while still retaining all of its magnificence, had obviously seen better days.

While the spells built into Potter Manor kept it from decay and rot, no such accommodation had been made for the interior, resulting in a layer of dust that had almost achieved malevolent sentience had it not been for a bucket of water, six Reductor curses and a particularly vicious animated vacuum cleaner.

On the bright side, at least he knew what happened to the house-elves. Carnivorous dirt wasn’t really that odd, considering some of the things he’d seen and dispatched during his time in the Department of Mysteries.

At least he wouldn’t have to distract Hermione from Lecture-Mode again.

Now that the worst was over, the wizard still had to deal with the fact that his family home hadn’t seen the business end of a feather duster for over twenty-three years. Harry pondered over his next step, blissfully unaware that the dust was starting to move on its own.

Behind him, the grime rose and congealed into a hideous demonic shape.

Harry felt his Hogwarts-Sense tingling.

Slowly, he turned around…

… and twitched indignantly.

Goddammit! Not another one! he roared, a hand diving into his robe pocket. With exaggerated flourish, he brandished a gleaming fork and a glittering spoon, wielding them in the shape of a cross.

The creature flinched back, shrieking in agonized terror as the searing, holy rays of cleanliness scorched its dirty frame.

Then Harry drew out a bottle of detergent, unscrewed the cap and tossed a handful at the writhing dust creature. With a painful shriek and a last hateful glare at the gleaming cutlery, the creature crumbled into nothingness. Harry collapsed on a chair, staring at the place the creature had once stood on.

I’m going to need a maid, he said out loud.

The next day…

Jonathan Doe, Unspeakable of six years and freelance supernatural investigator for ten years before that, had found himself with what was quite possibly the toughest job in all his thirty-five years; a job that every Unspeakable dreaded — more so now due to the newest entry in the Daily Prophet’s Classifieds page.

Fangirl repellent.

With Harry Potter as Department Head, the Department of Mysteries had seen a staggering rise of empty-headed, linguistically-challenged bimbos and husband-hunters attempting to trespass within the premises. This, coupled with the fact that Master Unspeakable Potter was on (at least) speaking terms with virtually every former female Hogwarts student working both in the Ministry and elsewhere, had resulted in a mass exodus of fangirls to the Department premises. Amusing entertainment and eyecandy, but a distraction when you wanted the boss to not chew you up and spit you out with a Look™.

John bit back a shudder the last time the fangirls had blocked Chief Barrister Granger’s rare office-hour visits.

The Fist of Death gave him nightmares even now.

The sound of a throat clearing drew his attention back to the real world.

Oh joy, another one, John snarked inwardly, giving the witch in front of him a once over.

Blank look: check. Vapid smile: check. Really funky hairdo: check. Breasts the size of Hagrid’s paunch: check. A Harry Potter Fan Club membership button: check.

Fangirl alert.

Like, hi! giggled the witch.

Oh lord, a Yankee Valley Girl imitator! Not a brain cell in that head, groaned the Unspeakable inwardly.

Oblivious to the look of annoyed dread on the wizard’s face, the woman continued on. I’m, like, here about the maid ad by, like, Harry Potter… 

As soon as the name passed her lips, the woman’s face glazed over as a disturbingly lecherous grin crossed her mouth. The Unspeakable began to inch back slowly.

Ah, well, about that… one of Director Potter’s requirements for anyone applying for that position is the ability to care for animals. In this case, a test run with dog-walking.

Sure, giggled the witch. John felt his eardrums shatter as the witch continued on; So, like, what is it? A golden retriever? A poodle? A Labrador? I bet, like, it’s got a name like Husky or Rover!

It’s Bob, actually.

… Bob? That sounds so, like, normal.

The Unspeakable smiled. It’s short for Borbatollus.

… Like, what kind of, like, mutt has a name like Borbatollus?

That one, said the Unspeakable cheerfully, pointing behind her.

A huge, three-headed hound covered in fine black fur loped out of the shadows, perdition-red eyes blazing with hellish, malevolent hunger. Three sets of gleaming fangs dripping with acidic saliva were plainly visible, while a row of sharp spikes ran along the creature’s powerful spine. The monster’s powerful, lean body was supported by strong limbs and clawed paws, while a thrashing snake’s body and head made up the tail. Occasionally, a livid spark of flame hissed from between one of the abomination’s terrifying jaws.

The central neck had been collared with a strong chain made of what appeared to be solid bronze.

The witch, by now, was making a credible impression of a fish out of water. Very, very slowly, she met the creature’s eyes.

She recognized the look in the monster’s orbs. It was the same look she had whenever she looked at a leaf of lettuce and a slice of cucumber, combined with a mouth-watering glass of boiled water.

In short, Din-Dins.

John smiled cheerfully and slapped the chain into the witch’s hand. Have fun!

The woman barely had time to whimper before the demon-dog sprinted off, dragging her along with it.

The Unspeakable leaned back against the door and made a mental note to send a janitor over to clean up when the hellhound was done. He’d just begun to daydream when the sound of a throat clearing drew him back to the land of the living.

Go on in, Barrister Granger.

Fwoosh!

Harry incinerated yet another pile of paperwork with a glare before sending the ashes to Ernie’s office. Making a mental note to ‘explain’ in great detail to the stuffy Hufflepuff about why dangerously powerful and creative wizards with an entire department of hair-trigger psychopaths at their beck and call should not be sent paperwork, the former Boy-Who-Lived leaned back into his chair and tried to figure out a way to kill time before his usual visit to one of the DoM’s project sites.

Next to the window, his black mamba sunned itself, oblivious to the world.

There was a knock on the door, drawing his gaze up. It’s open.

Hermione strode in through the doorway, quickly shutting the door and casting several silencing and locking charms.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his best friend’s antics, watching while she hastily took a seat; her eyes looking everywhere except at him. His inner-self gleefully noted that Hermione was wearing black lace beneath her crisp white blouse.

Harry dropkicked his inner-self and spoke up. Hermione?

The witch remained silent, while her right hand held on to a scrap of paper before pushing it onto his desk.

The Unspeakable recognized it on sight. Desperately, the wizard began to cycle through every logical reason he had planned out for this scenario — ones that didn’t involve the witch in front of him bursting into tears or into fire.

Cn y’u hr m? The question was almost inaudible.

Harry blinked. … What?

Canyouhireme? rushed Hermione, an embarrassed blush decorating her pretty face.

Excuse me? asked the wizard incredulously.

Hermione’s blush darkened. As a… as a… maid?

Harry stared at her. Hermione, he said carefully; Are you feeling okay? Do you need a trip to St. Mungo’s?

The witch stomped her foot. Harry James Potter! I assure you, I am perfectly fine!

Then why the hell do you want to be a maid?!

I need the money! blurted the brown-haired woman, before covering her mouth in mortified shock.

The man in front of her felt as though he’d suddenly ended up in a world where pink nundus tap-danced alongside drunken dragons. You’re one of the highest paid barristers in Britain! How can you possibly need money?!

… spent it… 

What could you possibly spend your entire salary on?!

… b’k sl… 

Harry leaned forward. I’m not sure I caught that.

THERE WAS A FREE-FOR-ALL SALE AT THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA, OKAY? screamed Hermione, her face a strawberry hue.

The Unspeakable stared at her, then slowly started to snicker.

It’s not funny, Harry!

The snickers turned into roars.

Stop laughing! squeaked the mortified witch.

At this point, Harry fell off his chair, still laughing.

Outside, a few of the less robust Unspeakables began to hyperventilate.

With grace born of years and years of getting the shit kicked out of him, John Doe neatly sidestepped the indignantly embarrassed — yet strangely relieved — witch that all but flew out. The unruffled Unspeakable resumed his post at the doorway.

Then he shuddered. Harry Potter, winner of the Scariest Boss Ever contest three times in a row, laughing?

It just wasn’t natural.

Almost absent-mindedly, he opened the door as Bob returned. The hellhound sprinted in, leaving its half-dead-with-terror walker behind.

I trust you had fun?

There was a dull ‘thud’ as the woman fainted, a foamy trail of drool spilling out the side of her mouth. John smiled; a catatonic fangirl meant that the world was just a bit brighter.

Excuse me?

John turned around.

Is zis ze Department of Mysteries?

Some time later…

Harry spent a good, long while staring at the resumes on his desk. He had no idea if he’d stumbled into a strange Twilight Zone-esque world or if becoming a maid was really a lucrative career choice for young women.

He honestly had no idea why Fleur and Gabrielle applied for the job.

For that matter, he didn’t think a cheesecake photo of the two-half Veela in string bikinis was appropriate for a resume. Discreetly, he pocketed the photo.

Though he still wondered what they meant about ‘appropriate uniforms’.

Hey boss!

Yes, Donald? he spoke into the speaker-orb.

There’re some people here to see you. They say it’s about the ad!

Send them in.

The door opened and Harry’s eyes bugged out. Mrs. Malfoy?! Both of you?! Daphne?! … The hell?!

It was much, much later that Harry finally snapped out of his shock, even while mindlessly perusing the resumes on the table.

Now he was sure that he’d ended up in some sort of alternate dimension — that could at least explain why Astoria Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass had just applied for the job offer.

And he could’ve sworn Daphne had added an extra sway to her hips when they were walking out…

Harry shook his head and spoke out loud. What the hell just happened?

’

It was Sunday morning, and the birds were singing in the morning sun.

Well, at least until a hungry mamba cornered them, but that’s another story.

Showered and shaved, Harry strode down the stairs, only to pause as a familiar voice greeted him happily.

Good morning, Master.

Fleur? Why are you calling me Mas-URK!

His ‘maids’ were waiting for him in their uniforms.

If that was even the correct word for them.

Each witch was clad in what appeared to be a small, strapless, mid-thigh length, back-baring black dress with white frills; specifically designed to bare heart-stopping cleavage. Small white aprons accentuated the outfit, while long stockings reaching just under the dressline were held in place by small garters. Around each neck was an elaborate bow and uniform collar, and each arm bore small frilly black bands. The uniform was finished by a jaunty maid’s cap.

In short, the ultimate maid fetish outfit.

The reactions, however, were a bit more varied.

Hermione, blushing, was attempting to pull down the dressline over her legs, while accidentally leaving the upper curves of her breasts bare. The shapely witch squeaked and flung an arm over her chest, blushing adorably in the process. Daphne looked just as embarrased, although she seemed pleased with the way Harry’s eyes roved over her sultry frame, judging from the smirk on her lips. Astoria was in the same boat as Hermione, though some how looking more shy than embarrased.

The part-Veela sisters, however, looked more than comfortable, with the more volouptuous Fleur preening slightly while Gabrielle’s slender frame pressed against her sister’s. Narcissa Malfoy looked the most surprising, however; the shapely woman seemed to be extremely proud of the fact she could pass for a woman a decade and a half younger, judging from her haughty look and strut.

This time, Harry’s inner-self and outer-self were in complete agreement: cold shower as soon as possible.

Hermione spoke up, still blushing. Harry, this — EEP!

Fleur gave the brunette’s bottom a sharp smack.  ‘Ermione, we must show ze Master of ze House ze proper respect! You must address ‘im as Master ‘Arry!

Hermione’s blush turned atomic. But-but—

Unless, of course, you can’t take ze pressure…  mused Gabrielle.

That sent Hermione’s Gryffindor qualities into overdrive. With a determined look, Hermione gave Fleur a sharp look and gave her a fierce nod.

Fleur smiled happily. Excellent, ‘Ermione! Now, Master, what do you zink about zese uniforms? As if to demonstrate, the blonde gave a little twirl.

Harry gulped, muttered a  ‘Scuse me, and turned around to walk back up the stairs.

And take a cold shower.

The ‘maids’ were left alone and in silence, which was broken up by Gabrielle.

Did you ‘zee ze size of that bulge in ‘is trouzers? she whispered, awe in her voice.

Her answer was divided between blushes and hungry looks.

’

Accepting snippets and omakes… Now.

Lord of Bones

When Ron first read the the ad Harry placed in the Daily Prophet, he’d thought the man had finally gone off the deep end. Why didn’t he just use house-elves like everyone else did? He’d even joked around with his family about how the Boy-Who-Lived was handling life as a solitary wizard the way a fish handled living out of water.

He’d had the good sense to leave before his mother got involved. He loved the woman, but he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of yet another If only Harry dear realized his place was with us! diatribe.

Still, he’d come to work feeling pretty good about himself; the infamous split between Potter and the Weasley family now looking to be an extremely well-thought decision.

That is, until his workmates had brought back news about the line of women that had appeared seemingly overnight in front of the DoM entrance (that was one part of the infamous split, with Potter going against the idea of becoming a respectable Auror). That wouldn’t have been so bad, if not for gossip that figures as well-known as Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass, Astoria Malfoy and even Lady Malfoy herself had shown up.

And all of them were definitely lookers.

There was even talk about a pair of French Veela, but news on that was sketchy; and Ron doubted they were the French Veela he was acquainted with.

That had, however, sparked off the idea that he should get his own maids.

After all, he was Ron Weasley, Hero of the Resurrection War. Women everywhere wanted him.

The thought that he was best friends with Harry Potter or that he still lived with his parents never crossed his mind.

Regardless, he waited patiently in his cubicle, knowing that the armies of applicants would start streaming in.

Yer Ron Weasley?

See?

Ron looked up and smiled. You’re here for the — eep… 

Milicent Bulstrode glared down at him, arms crossed and face scowling while wearing a hideous parody of a maid’s outfit.

Oi heard yer lookin’ fer a maid.

Errr… 

What’s the side benefits like?

Side benefits? asked the freckled carrot-top in confusion. The only side benefits he could think of were what he presumed Harry was really doing — Ron’s face turned white.

Milicent grinned horribly. Her hand descended into Ron’s pants.

Ron whimpered as Milicent roughly handled his closest companion, gripping him with horrifying strength. Lil on the wee side, but it’s somethin’ to work with. Yer got yerself a maid.

Far away…

Harry looked up suddenly, a strange expression on his face.

Daphne stared at him with surprise. Master? Is something wrong?

I could’ve sworn I heard a scream of absolute terror and horror just now… 

Nah, couldn’t be. It was his day off, and none of his Unspeakables screamed like that — shriek, yes, but not scream.

Daphne looked at him carefully; one fine black eyebrow rising. Are you sure, Master? Perhaps you need some rest.

A sinful smile crossed her face. The dark-haired beauty leaned forward slightly, giving her Master a fine view of her well-formed bust. Perhaps you need a few more hours in bed, Master? she purred huskily; Perhaps with a person or two to keep watch and keep you company?

Harry gulped slightly; his mind bombarded with images of the dark-haired woman and her fair-haired sister ‘taking care of him’.

Not today, Daphne, he said, thanking any power that would listen for not making his voice waver.

Daphne pouted. Foiled again.

Miriani_1

Admittedly, this was written at 3-4AM some day a couple years ago so I will take any criticism with a grain of salt, and I’m not entirely sure if I’ll ever finish it.

Who am I? You sure you want to know? The story of my life is not for the faint of heart. If somebody said it was a happy little tale… if somebody told you I was just your average ordinary guy, not a care in the world… somebody lied. If they told you I was the Wizarding World-famous Boy-Who-Lived? They’re even more full of it.

Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories, how I defeated Oldie-snort when I was a baby, how I was raised by Muggles, all that rot. Some of it may actually be close to true. But how it really started? It wasn’t during that ‘battle’, if you want to glorify my parents’ murder and blind chance with the word battle. It wasn’t even when I stepped onto the Hogwart’s Express for the first time. No, the moment it really started, though I didn’t realize it, was with another mistake.

 

The spider did not understand what was going on, only that it was noisy and dangerous around him. It felt a surge of what a human would call worry as a smoking liquid rushed at it. Unable to move far enough, fast enough, the edge of the wake washed over it, burning its carapace. It would have died, except for a wave of Professor Snape’s wand, clearing away the remainder of the substance. It did not understand the sensations that surged through it, nor that it was dying, only that it needed to hide. It moved toward a tall object, climbing up as it tried to hide from the pain. A moment later, its life ended as it was crushed, driving its fangs into the soft material beneath it.

Harry winced as he felt the kick from Ron as he was about to protest. Watch it, mate, He said muttered after Ron’s advice to not push his luck. There’s something sticking on your shoe.

Ron looked down at his foot, but his shoe was intact, and there wasn’t anything sharp. Isn’t— but he stopped talking and looked down to his potion as Snape looked back.

Harry reached down to scratch his leg, dislodging the crushed spider. He looked at the arachnid, before scratching his leg and returning to work on his potion.

After class, Ron replied, Cheer up, Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Can I meet Hagrid with you?

Harry nodded, scratching at his leg and looking a bit flushed. At five to three, they left the Castle and made their way to a small wooden house on the edge of the Forest. When Harry knocked, he leaned against the door as his leg began to cramp up a bit. Are you sure you’re alright, mate? Ron asked, but before Harry could reply, a frantic scrabbling and several booming barks could be heard.

Back, Fang, back. Hagrid’s face appeared as he opened the door slightly. Hang on. Back, Fang. He let them in, struggling to hold onto an enormous black boarhound. Make yerselves at home, he offered, letting go of Fang, who promptly licked at Ron’s ears.

This is Ron, Harry told Hagrid a bit unsteadily as the large man poured water into a tea pot and put rock cakes onto a plate.

Another Weasley, eh? Hagrid said, looking at Ron. I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the Forest. He listened to the two, before interrupting as he took a long look at Harry. You alright, ’Arry? You’re looking a bit off.

Harry shook his head. I’m fine, He said, a bit blearily, before falling over, losing conscious as his head barely missed the table.

The nightmares were hideous, most of them involving being beaten around by the Dursleys, flashes of green light, and spiders crawling over him. Every time he lashed out at one of them, they’d fall, curling up until they faced him, their miniature heads looking human and bearing his face. He woke up a few times but was unable to scream as he immediately fell to sleep once more. It was the next day before he woke up, blinking a few times. Madam Pomfrey looked at him. Ahh, he’s woken up. How are you, dear?

Harry blinked a few times, reaching up to rub his face. I’m fine… pretty good, actually. What am I doing here? He asked, fumbling at the side of the bed for his glasses.

You passed out at Hagrid’s yesterday afternoon. Don’t worry, your friend came in yesterday and said he’d take notes for you, Madam Pomfrey informed him. I am glad you’re feeling better. Try to eat more, next time, alright, dear? She asked, before walking off.

Harry put the glasses his hand finally encountered on, then winced, before taking them off. It finally occurred to him that he was seeing clearly, as if, no better than when he was wearing his glasses. Confused, he looked at the glasses. Um, Madam Pomfrey? He called gently, but she was already busy with another patient. Shrugging, he stood up and stretched. No pain, in fact, he felt better than he had in quite a long time. He decided he, therefore, shouldn’t miss any classes, and moved to Madam Pomfrey’s side. Ma’am, what time is it?

After her reply, he departed for the Gryffindor tower, looking at a piece of paper that had stuck to the inside of his robe. Gringott’s Break-In Latest? He frowned as he realized that the break-in was on his birthday. Hurriedly, he rushed for the common room, just as his fellow first years groaned as they noticed the message informing them about their shared flying lessons with the Slytherins.

Ron looked up. Hey, Harry, you look a lot better. You feeling any better?

Harry smiled. Just fine. Guess it was just the fumes down in Snape’s class got to me, that’s all. He shrugged. Oh joy. Making fun of myself on a broom in front of Malfoy.

You don’t know you’ll make a fool of yourself. Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is, but I bet it’s all talk. Ron paused and looked at Harry. Forget your glasses?

Harry shook his head. I don’t know. I guess Madam Pomfrey did something while I was out of it, because I can see just fine now. Didn’t get to thank her though.

Ron looked at him in confusion, then shrugged. Well, it’s just about breakfast. You’ve got great timing. Come on, you didn’t miss much. I can catch you up while we eat.

When the two got to the Great Hall and began to eat, Harry showed Ron the note that stuck to his robe. That break-in might have happened after we left… I wonder if whatever Hagrid took out of it was what the thieves were looking for.

Ron shrugged and was about to respond when Neville called out, It’s a Remembrall. Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — you’ve forgotten something, he said, his face falling as the orb indeed turned scarlet.

Draco Malfoy snatched the ball out of his hand as he was passing the table. Ron jumped to his feet, but Harry not only beat him to standing, but lashed out a hand, and before anyone could blink, the ball disappeared from Draco’s hand, before Harry returned it to Neville. Before Draco could protest, however, Professor McGonagall asked What’s going on?

Malfoy scowled and said Nothing, as he gave a quick glare at Harry before Draco, Crabbe and Goyle sloped off.

Ron looked at Harry and grinned. Nice move there, mate.

Neville blinked a bit, then looked at the Remembrall, before peeling a little bit of white gunk off of it. Ugh. Draco must have gotten something on it. Yuck.

The Gryffindors hurried down the front steps that afternoon. The Slytherins were already there, near twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Madam Hooch arrived shortly after. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.

Harry glanced down at his broom, and shrugged at the old relic.

Stick your right hand over your broom and say ‘Up!’ Madam Hooch called out.

Despite twenty nearly simultaneous cries, only a couple brooms actually rose on the command. Harry’s was one of them, as Hermione’s rolled over and Neville’s refused to move. Madam Hooch then showed everyone how to mount their brooms, eliciting a smirk from Ron and Harry when she informed Malfoy that he’d been doing it wrong.

Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —

Neville, however, pushed off hard before Madam Hooch had even blown the whistle. Come back, boy! she shouted, but Neville’s broom jerked and danced all over the place before Neville lost his grip, causing the broom to go off toward the Forbidden Forest, and Neville’s wrist to break.

Come on, boy, it’s alright, up you get, Madam Hooch said, looking pale, before turning toward the class. None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwart’s before you can say ‘Quidditch’. Come on, dear. She said, escorting Neville off.

Did you see his face, the great lump? Malfoy said, laughing.

Shut up, Malfoy, Parvati Patil said testily.

Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom? a hardfaced Slytherin girl asked. Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.

Before the Patil twin could reply, Malfoy retrieved Neville’s fallen Remembrall. Look! It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.

Harry said, Give that here, Malfoy.

Malfoy smiled greasily. I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect — how about up a tree?

Give it here! Harry yelled, but Malfoy leapt onto his broomstick and took off.

Come and get it, Potter!

Harry grabbed his broom, ignoring Hermione’s protest as he raced toward a broom and blazed toward Malfoy smoothly and swiftly. The blood surging in his ears rushed an adrenaline high through him as he caught up with Malfoy. Give it here, or I’ll knock you off that broom.

Oh yeah? Malfoy tried to sneer, but was visibly nervous as Harry rushed at him, buzzing him and almost doing as he said he would.

No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy, Harry called.

Malfoy, realizing Harry was right, hurled the ball upward over the Castle wall, yelling Catch it if you can, then!

Harry rushed toward the Remembrall, disappearing out of sight of the class, but not out of one other person’s sight.

Professor McGonagall blinked, stunned as she watched a robed figure blaze past her window. As she stuck her head out, she watched as Harry rushed toward the ball.

Harry reached toward the ball, his body tensing as he realized the ground was coming up very fast. The tension in his wrist felt like a spasm, then suddenly a white fluid jetted from his wrist, striking the flying sphere dead on. Stunned, Harry pulled up, causing the ball to swing from the now solidified fluid, dangling from his wrist. He flicked his wrist, and almost like a yo-yo, the ball hurled toward him. Quickly moving his hand, he grabbed the sphere.

Minerva stared, not only at Harry’s incredible flying, but also at the dangling loop of streamer that dangled from his arm to the object in his hand. Harry reached for it, before pulling the substance free and hurling it aside. Harry shook his head as he flew back over the wall and toward his classmates. Professor McGonagall blinked as she rushed down the stairs, then toward where Harry discarded the substance, only to find it completely gone.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindors were cheering as Harry arrived, holding the sphere. Nice moves there, Mate! Ron cried out.

Another voice was heard over the din suddenly. Harry Potter!

Harry froze. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. Never in all my time at Hogwart’s… How dare you — might have broken your neck —

It wasn’t his fault— Parvati tried to protest but was interrupted.

Ron was cut short before he could get three words out, as McGonagall snapped, Potter, follow me, now.

Harry followed McGonagall, trying to ignore Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle’s looks of almost unholy triumph. As the corridors passed Harry’s eyes, without a word from the Professor, Harry felt more and more certain that he was going to be gone before he had even been there a month. Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?

Wood? Was I going to be beaten again? Harry thought, until he realized that it was not a stick but a person McGonagall was asking for. Follow me, you two. In here.

McGonagall led them into a classroom, pausing to order Peeves out, before looking excitedly toward the older student. Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I’ve found you a Seeker.

Wood looked ecstatic. Are you serious, Professor?

Absolutely, Minerva replied. The boy’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter? Harry nodded, life coming back to him as he realized that he wasn’t being expelled.

He caught that thing after a fifty-foot dive, She said, Didn’t even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn’t have done that. Harry froze. Did she see what he had a hard time believing he did?

Wood looked like he was the beneficiary of a miracle. Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?

Wood’s Captain of the Gryffindor team, Minerva replied.

He’s just the build for a Seeker too, said Wood. Light — speedy — we’ll have to get him a decent broom, Professor. Nimbus 2000 or Cleansweep 7, I’d say.

I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can’t bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year.

Harry wasn’t listening to the two older people as he looked at his hand. What had he done out there? What was that stuff that came from the swelling on his wrist he was just now noticing. His self-contemplation was interrupted, however, when Professor McGonagall said, I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you. A smile crossed her face. Your father would have been proud. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself.

Wood smiled and nodded as he asked him to come to the pitch tomorrow morning, then left, jubilant. Harry was about to walk off, when Minerva asked, Potter… what happened out there?

Harry looked up at the professor and shook his head. I honestly don’t know…  He looked at his wrist.

I’ve never seen a spell quite like that, she replied. And without a wand.

I didn’t cast a spell, Professor, He said, utterly confused.

Minerva noticed his confusion, then said, If you have other things happen like that, please come to me immediately. Harry nodded slowly. Now off with you, she said gently.

Harry left the room and walked away, looking at the swelling on his wrist. What is this? He asked himself. Something happen while I was unconscious? He stroked it, until a streamer sprayed out, hitting a suit of armor and knocking the helmet off. He blinked. That was interesting, he thought to himself as he moved toward the helmet. He picked up the helmet and looked at the dangling substance, before reaching for it. Surprised at the texture, he held the string and let go of the helmet, letting it dangle. Wicked…  He murmered to himself. Curious, he looked at the ceiling. He paused, before flexing his arm and tensing his wrist as he held it upward. Another spray hit the ceiling. Very wicked, He muttered as he tugged on it. He looked around, then took a deep breath, before he began to climb the streamer.

Pleased that it held his weight, he climbed his way to the ceiling, then worked his way about halfway down. Utterly wicked, He said before laughing softly. The laughter started him swinging. Whoa, He said as he dangled, swinging back and forth. He winced as he realized he was about to hit the wall with some force, and held his hands out. The swinging stopped. In fact, all motion stopped, before he opened his eyes. He groaned. Great. Now I’m stuck, I imagine. he said, before trying to pull his hand away. Harry yelped in surprise as his hand came free and he found himself dangling by a hand that was only pressed to the wall.

What the hell? He asked before putting his other hand to the wall, then trying to pull the first hand free. Wow, he murmered as it came free just as easily. He paused, before starting to pull himself along the wall. On a theory, Harry kicked one shoe off, then pressed his foot against the wall. It stuck, just as his hands did. Oh bloody hell, Harry murmered in awe, before kicking the other shoe off. After a moment, he began to climb the wall, until he quickly found himself upon the ceiling. Oh this is too bloody cool.

nebkreb

The students jumped as the normally quiet potions class shook. The door burst open and a giant, fat… thing lumbered it. Dark green with a white stomach, it snorted before ambling forward.

Towering above a white Snape, the creature began to lean forward.

No no no no no nooooooo, Snape screamed as he was crushed. The creature fell asleep. The class watched in shock.

Harry burst in. Damn it Snorlax!

Lord of Bones

A/N: Lily/James, Harry/witches. Excessive usage of probably unfunny mockery. Snape torture. Draco torture.
And yes, I know the latter half reads weirdly. Keep in mind that it’s from Draco’s PoV, and most of the possessive terms are in reference to him, not Harry.

Draco Malfoy woke up groggily, wincing as he did so through a phantom pain on his chest. He looked around the bleak, dark plain he’d found himself in with a puzzled expression on his face, wondering how he’d got here. The last thing he remembered… 

Those eyes.

He’d just been about to hurl a Cruciatus at the mudblood when Potter and his mother burst in. Potter’s eyes… Draco shuddered.

There was only one other person in the world with those terrible blazing eyes, and the Dark Lord Voldemort was miles away in his fortress.

Dunko Malflop, I take it? spoke a cultured voice, cutting into Draco’s thoughts. The platinum-blonde wizard looked up to see an iron-haired man in a Muggle business suit carrying a silver knob-topped cane and holding a clipboard. The man looked at the clipboard and frowned again. Or is Drugo Melfloy? I really must speak with the person who compiles these lists, one of these centuries, he sighed.

It’s Draco Malfoy, corrected the Malfoy heir, his hand slipping down for his wand. He could just blast this fool and -

Looking for this? said the other man, holding pieces of a snapped wand. Oh, don’t look so surprised young man, everything has a spiritual counterpart, he shrugged, the wooden halves bursting into blue-white flame.

Now hurry up, Mr. Malfoy, chop-chop; we don’t have all the time in creation.

Draco staggered to his feet, looking somewhat wild and disheveled. Wha-what?

You are dead, Mr. Malfoy, and there are certain procedures that must be followed, lectured the man patiently, before frowning at the gobsmacked look on Draco’s face. Kindly hurry up Mr. Malfoy, this isn’t exactly a time to contemplate your actions.

Draco remained unmoved. But, but,-

Really Mr. Malfoy, must you require personal attention in every miniscule endeavour? The man gripped Draco’s forearm in an iron grip, taking them both in a whirl of scorching fire and reappearing in a door-strewn corridor.

Wh-where are we?

Your new home, Mr. Malfoy, said his guide calmly, walking down the corridor. Not knowing what else to do, Draco followed him past several plain-looking doors, until the man stopped at one with brass handle. Do excuse me for a moment, Mr. Malfoy, but I just require a few moments. Follow me in if you wish.

He opened the door and strode in, leaving Draco to hurry in as well.

Then the Malfoy heir stared in shock.

Uncle Severus?!

Ah, Severus, old chap, enjoying your current state of affairs?

The greasy-haired man, seated on a chair in an otherwise blank room, turned haunted, hateful eyes to the suited man. Damn… you…  he wheezed.

Still in denial, old boy? A pity, but then again, that’s what I’m here for, he raised a single glowing thread and dissolved it in the stale air of the room. A new memory, Severus. Enjoy.

Draco looked on in shock at the wreck of a man before he was ushered out of the room. The door closed with a soft ‘click’ and Snape was left alone, staring at the emptiness.

Lily, her long scarlet locks contrasting with the radiant white of her wedding gown, wrapping full red lips around the hard cock pulsing scant inches from her face.

Lily, with a stomach swollen with child, lying down on a soft bed and moaning with soft pleasure as her dark-haired lover feasted between her thighs.

Lily, smiling mischievously as she rode a gasping, wiry dark-haired man bound to her bed.

Lily, licking at the head of the large, proud cock thrusting between her full breasts before thick spurts of hot semen blasted into her mouth and over her face, hair and chest.

Lily, sleeping contentedly in the dark-haired man’s arms.

Again and again, Snape watched the one woman he’d obsessed over be defiled over and over again in the throes of ecstasy. And again and again, he cursed James Potter for taking what was rightfully his.

 

Draco followed the man numbly, watching him navigate past branches and corridors, before they came to an open door leading to a room with a single wooden chair. Ah, here we are. Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy.

He did so silently, before rings of force bound him to the chair’s limbs. What is this?!

The suited man chuckled pleasantly. You see, Mr. Malfoy, where Severus’ current fate is bound to the past, and hence to its memories, yours is bound to present and future.

What’s that supposed to mean?!

The man smiled pleasantly, revealing rows of sharklike teeth. You’ll understand soon enough. Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy. Have a pleasant eternity.

Then he was gone, leaving Draco alone.

The wizard stared around at the bleak nothingness worriedly, before the emptiness in front of him began to distort.

Narcissa Malfoy, blonde and as beautiful as a woman a decade and a half younger, was there, sweat dripping from her voluptuous body as strong hands held tight to her hips and a distinctly male body pounded into her from behind. Draco stared in horror as his mother gasped and moaned, rocking her hips back to meet the man’s thrusts. She squealed as she was turned around and forced upwards as the man savagely crushed his lips to hers.

’Potter. Potter is fucking my mother.’

Narcissa moaned and mewled as her ample breasts were roughly groped and kneaded; before the man bit down on her neck possessively and she screamed in orgasm.

Draco watched with mounting horror as Potter drew his still-hard cock from Narcissa’s channel, resting it between the globes of her firm arse. Horror mingled with shock when Narcissa rose up unsteadily on her knees and aligned his prick with her arse and slowly dropped down. Potter’s triumphant face faded out to another scene.

Astoria lay between Potter and his mother; kissing and mewling into Narcissa’s face and shoulder as her male lover gently took her, while Daphne embraced Potter from behind and kissed his neck.

Pansy letting Potter roughly fuck her mouth before he pulled out to unload thick ropes of semen over her submissive features.

Potter screwing the howling, ecstatic Mudblood on a library desk.

Potter taking the older half-breed Veela on a beach while her younger sister stroked herself off in front of them.

Potter and the Indian twins in an abandoned temple.

Potter, surrounded by women sleeping around (and on) him.

Potter, surrounded by several beaming pregnant witches.

Potter, looking over his rebuilt family.

Potter, surrounded by adoring boys and girls calling him ‘Daddy’ and ‘Dad’.

Potter’s name gaining in fame and power, while the Malfoys faded away.

Potter.

Potter.

Always Potter.

Despair, rage and madness howled through Draco as he screamed and raged in denial, plotting threats and hurling curses at the uncaring room.

And somewhere in the Deepest Dark, the Lord of Hell smiled as the impotent denying screams of another damned soul echoed through his Realm.

Lord of Bones

Yeah, so, anyway, the Hermione omake didn’t quite make the cut, so here’s another one just to get the creative juices flowing. And to hopefully get BSJinx into writing the next part of Housekeeping Arrangements.
Or to get more spinoffs written.

It was 6.30 in the morning and the sun had risen over Britain. All over the country, sleepy men, women and children were forced out of their warm, comfy beds by alarms, babies, nagging spouses, overactive birds and the prospect of an early-morning raid into Onyxia’s Lair.

But especially the birds.

The situation was no different outside Potter Manor, where an entire flock of songbirds had gathered for their early morning ritual. One — the leader — took a deep breath.

Twee— Snap!

The mamba slithered back into its master’s room and back into its basket, contentedly swallowing its breakfast. You’d think those birds would finally get a clue after the last fifteen times that happened.

The damage was already done, though, and a bleary-eyed Harry Potter struggled out of bed.

Four hours of sleep, a lack of coffee and some idiot attempting to summon an Aspect of Pazuzu would do that to anyone.

The wizard, now standing, looked back and forth between his closet and his bed. With Herculean effort, he pulled his eyes away from the warm, comfy piece of furniture and trudged over to the closet door.

Good morning, Master, came a pleasant, aristocratic woman’s voice from the doorway. Still addled with sleep, Harry only grunted.

There’s no need for that, Master. I’ve already laid out your clothes.

Another grunt. Harry staggered over to the nearby chair, where his robe, shirt, trousers, socks and shoes were already set out. Had he been more coherent, he might’ve asked why his black silk boxers were set out as well.

What was next? Right, a shower.

He staggered out, giving a thankful grunt to his ‘maid’. Fuzzily, his mind tried to piece together which of his housekeepers she was.

Pale skin, blonde hair and a rather… healthy… bounce with each walk narrowed it down to two candidates. The innately haughty strut sealed the deal — he was looking at Narcissa Malfoy. He should have, perhaps, been a bit more observant — Narcissa was obviously enjoying watching her employer in nothing more than boxers and a muscle-shirt.

Silently though, she cursed Gabrielle for the incident that caused Harry to turn from sleeping in the nude.

Unaware of this, Harry pushed thoughts of the curvy witch out of his mind and sleepily made his way to the bathroom, where the shower was already running; not noticing his self-elected personal ‘maid’ slip in with him.

The sharp intake of breath when he stripped off should’ve tipped him off.

Standing under the shower, he fumbled for the soap.

It was then that his mind woke up.

Fact: There were a pair of very nice, very aroused fabric-covered breasts pressing against his back.

Fact: There was someone breathing warmly on his neck.

Fact: There were a pair of soapy hands lathering up his front, tracing the wiry muscles of his torso and arms.

Fact: One of those hands had just grabbed on to a very sensitive part and was now lathering it up.

You should know that it is our duty to attend to you in every way, Master, purred the blonde beauty into his ear, giving the shell a playful lick.

Harry just managed a strangled gurgle.

Some time later, in the DoM…

What the… Dear Lord, he’s grinning!

Robertson? Rober — he’s fainted!

I think I need a change of pants… 

Potter Manor, at the same time…

The assembled maids stared at the bowlegged woman walking down the stairs, noticing the red marks on her bare neck, the gigantic smile and the just had her brains screwed out look.

Gabrielle voiced out the one thing they were all thinking.

You lucky bitch.

Lord of Bones

A/N: Delicious nonsensical crack. Contains smut and a D&D reference.
Rated NC-17 for Draco.

There was a house.

Well, actually, it would’ve been more accurate to call it a mansion.

As far as mansions went, it was a fairly gothic structure, with gargoyle waterspouts, dragon statues and vast gardens that looked as though they were the successors to Daedalus’ Labyrinth all over the place. The entire place radiated a sense of entitled snobbery, no doubt accentuated by the myriad peacocks that roosted in its gardens.

At least, this author hopes they’re peacocks. If regular peacocks were the aristocracy of the avian world, then these particular specimens would be the ones so noble they were cackling, lisping hunchbacks bawling Off with his head! at the local scenery.

Avian ancestry aside, this mansion was a very unique one.

… Really.

Not kidding.

Alright, so it wasn’t that unique. It was in fact somewhat mundane as far as evil gothic mansions went, but the fact remained that Evil lurked in the mansion.

More accurately, it lurked on the third floor and was admiring itself in the mirror.

This Evil was the Dark Lord of Magical Britain, the successor to Lord Voldemort, the Slytherin Prince, the Blonde to out-Blonde all Blondes.

This fearsome foe was none other than Draco Malfoy.

The Dark Lord of all Magic surveyed his exquisite form in the mirror, proudly beholding the way his deep black-and-gold robes flowed around him, admiring the way it opened at the front to reveal a portion of his muscular, bare chest. He puffed up proudly, knowing that he was the epitome of the masculinity of all truly pureblood men.

He was indeed a Manly Man.

Converting this description to real life, Draco looked like a constipated, malnourished curly-haired beanpole drowning in acres of black fabric that somehow managed to strategically expose portions of his sunken, pallid chest.

His act of narcissm done, Draco turned to bellow a word.

AAAAAS-TOOOO-REEEE-AAAA!

There was a muffled curse, a splash of water and the sound of a door opening. Footsteps echoed before a beautiful, damp-looking blonde wearing a skimpy bathrobe entered the room, a long-suffering look on her face.

Yes, Draco? Astoria sighed.

Draco waggled a finger intimidatingly at her, emulating the effect of Jell-O stuck in a hurricane. What do we say? he asked imperiously.

The Malfoy matriarch sighed again. What is your desire, my Lord husband, greatest of all the Dark Lords, conqueror of the Wizarding World, Sorcerer Supreme, Claimer of a Thousand Maidens, Master of Everything up to that Quaint Little Brick Outside the Gates? she asked dully.

Fetch me my— He stared at her in horrified disgust for a moment, before his face turned red. Change!, he shrieked, his Malfoy sensibilities outraged by the notion of a woman hinting at the existence of anything between the ankles and neck when not under the covers while being shrouded by pitch darkness.

The witch looked down at her stroke-inducing bathrobe. Draco, I just got out of the shower—

I don’t care! shrieked the wizard while stamping his feet and slamming his fists against the floor. Change it, change it, change it!!!

Merlin, Mathonwy and Morgana! muttered the annoyed witch, transfiguring her robe into something worthy of a Victorian fair.

Good, now bring me my regalia! demanded the Malfoy heir.

Astoria swallowed a biting retort then spoke up, Draco, you know what happened last time—

No! shrieked the Malfoy scion. NONONONONONO! Bring me my regalia! Bring it, bring it, bring it!!! screeched the wizard, furiously stamping his feet on the floor and pounding his fists against the wall. Astoria gave up and walked off, muttering to herself, Does Daphne’s husband act like a psychopathic man-child? No! Does Daphne’s husband force her to walk around in antiques? No! Does Daphne’s husband protest when she walks around in nothing more than dental floss? No!

Join the club, muttered Narcissa, who walked past her.

Astoria twitched.

At last, she came to a room with an outlandishly-decorated nameplate reading Master Draco Malfoy, Merlin’s Gift to Wizardkind. Astoria closed her eyes in mortification before muttering the password and disabling the security spells on the door before opening it, and, ignoring the golden statues, the self-portraits and autographed self-photographs, removed a garishly-jewelled crown, an ermine cape and a gemmed sceptre from their place on a suspiciously familiar mannequin. The blonde then resealed the room before returning to her spouse’s chambers.

There was an excited squeal as Draco took up his regalia, pompously posing in front of the mirror. He drew the cloak around himself, practising his facial expressions (varying from There’s something rotting under my nose! to Someone just hit my groin with a 500-pound sledgehammer.) Finally satisfied, the Malfoy heir swaggered away arrogantly, brushing past his wife to ‘hold court’ with his minions.

Astoria just shielded her eyes, knowing what was coming next.

Generally, thick robes and heavy cloaks are not meant to be swaggered in, especially when going down the stairs.

There was a muffled scream as Draco Malfoy bounced, ‘thud’-ed and crashed his way down three flights of stairs.

’

The throne-room of the Dark Lord was a horribly gaudy place, spitting in the eye of every Force of Evil from Sauron to Gargamel. Black, gold, silver and green dominated the place, not in the least helped by the heavy throne and vaguely-revolted animated Veela painting behind it.

To the new breed of Death Eaters, the room was the ultimate symbol of Pureblood Wealth, Power and Taste; proving once and for all that Purebloods were clearly head and shoulders above paltry halfbloods and mudbloods, proving once and for all that they were only fit as slaves to their betters.

All around the room, would-be dark wizards and witches mingled and blended together, discussing the ‘Impure Blood Threat’ in somewhat disturbing overtones that suggested these prospective evil minions somehow got lost between the ‘cootie’ years and the ‘Icky! It’s bleeding! Get it away from me!’ years. These, of course, were just the regular rank-and-file; the elite included Crabbe and Goyle.

The door opened and each minion assumed a fawning, servile look as Lord Malfoy entered the throne room, wincing with each step. Behind him came the Dark Consort, a look of pure awe and adoration (i.e. she looked nauseated) on her features as she respectfully trailed behind him. A few wizards attempted to leer at her shapely bum, but were dissuaded by a sudden attack of painful boils.

Draco took his seat on the throne, shrill squeals (or a triumphant chuckle, depending on who you ask) escaping him as he took his seat. Wench! he bawled.

Pansy entered from the side, a long-suffering look on her face as she sprawled on Draco’s lap. The short-haired brunette and her blonde counterpart traded similar Oh-Merlin-why us? looks as the Malfoy heir’s hand inconsiderately squeezed one of Pansy’s breasts through her robe.

The witch rolled her eyes and released an unconvincing (to most sane people) moan.

Draco smiled roguishly, in the way only a foppishly-dressed ferret man could. My friends! he screeched out; Before we begin this auspicious meeting, we must first perform the secret ritual of the Trueblooded!

Cheers resounded throughout the chamber as Pansy and Astoria closed their eyes in utter mortification. Little more will be said about the ritual, except that it involves both hands, a wand, the left arse-cheek and an eye-searing pelvic thrust.

Somewhere in Cania, a certain Dark Lord burst into mortified tears. A sympathetic gelugon offered him a hankie. There, there, guv. You’ll get used to it.

Back in Malfoy Manor, Draco (after smiling proudly at the display of pureblood support) raised his hand. My friends! he screeched; On this day, know that I have finally concocted the ultimate super-weapon, the ultimate power to bring all of our world back to its proper owners!

There were loud cheers.

And know that on this day, I have summoned our greatest obstacle — that accursed halfblood Harry Potter — to this place so that he may cower before us, his true masters, when we unveil this most powerful of magic!

There was absolute silence. Astoria and Pansy perked up.

And know that on this day, unlike all two-hundred and fifty-nine attempts earlier, we will not have the snot beaten out of us before being forced to share a 4x4 cell until bail money is posted!

A hand rose up. But that’s what you said for the past two-hundred and fifty-eight times!

A look at Draco’s purpling, twitching face resulted in the nearest Death-Eater knocking out his big-mouthed compatriot.

We are expecting the filthy halfbreed any minute now!

… Twenty minutes later…

Any minute now… 

… One hour later…

Where is he?! screamed the blonde wizard angrily. One unfortunate soul raised a hand.

Pardon me, my Lord, but we thought you knew that Potter’s on vacation.

Pansy leapt off Draco as the purpling wizard finally lost it.

Vacation?! Vacation?! How DARE that half-muggle mutt take a vacation! Doesn’t he know that I’m the Dark Lord?! He doesn’t have the right to gallivant off to who knows where while I’m still a threat! How DARE he! HOW DARE HE!!! the frothing wizard screeched, ripping and tearing at the cushions on his throne while stomping and cursing at everything in sight. He threw down his seat and began jumping and stamping on it, screaming and snarling all the way through his tantrum.

He was gnawing on an armrest when a follower spoke up. Errr… m’Lord… we might have a way to contact him… 

HOW?!

Erm… the place he’s gone to… it caters specifically to the old families… but… um… with Muggle advancements… called a fellytone… 

Well, what are you waiting for?! Get me one!

’

Hermione burst from the placid waters with a gasp, sending a spray of sea water across the surface of the ocean. The brown-haired witch shook droplets of water from her proud mane of wet curls, making her way back to the empty beach, where she’d kept a spare change of clothes. She tied a sarong around her trim waist, each step baring a shapely, lightly-tanned leg.

The witch took a moment to admire the white sand and crystal waters, stretching out the kinks in her muscles while she beheld the pristine, untouched beach. It was with a cheerful smile that she left to walk back to the Potter-exclusive resort mansion; her smile turning more than a little lustful when her gaze fell on the action on the patio.

Dressed in a black muscle-shirt and green swimming trunks, her husband knelt on the teak floor while holding a luscious-looking dark-skinned witch. Parvati’s moans were swallowed into Harry’s intense kisses as they ground into each other, with Parvati using Hermione’s husband as a seat. The Indian beauty’s red bikini was at least partially untied, baring one dusky breast to the green-eyed wizard’s explorations.

Kneeling behind Harry, the exquisite form of Fleur had embraced Harry from the back, rubbing her firm, abundant breasts against his tensed shoulders. The silver-blonde Veela was only clad in skimpy, powder-blue string bikini bottoms; proudly exposing her gorgeous physique to the world. Fleur’s lips were quirked lavisciously as she purred quiet words into Harry’s ear, while her hands had freed his massive, rampant erection and were now giving him an expert handjob. Thick drops of clear precum fell on both Parvati’s trim belly and on Fleur’s skillful hands; more so on the Veela due to her habit of swiping her thumb over Harry’s weeping cockhead.

Sitting on the nearest bench and wearing a third wedding ring, Daphne’s eyes were also riveted on to the erotic scene transpiring in front of her. Her black bikini top untied, the oldest Greengrass sister’s pink nipples had hardened under one hand’s skillful ministrations, the other buried in Lavender’s golden locks as the golden-haired beauty lapped at the raven-haired young woman’s dripping pussy.

With all the visual stimulation, Hermione’s nipples were already straining against the fabric of her white top, with a familiar ache between her legs. The brainy Gryffindor stepped up and ran a hand along Fleur’s sleek locks, smirking as the vain witch arched her back like a cat at the contact; before kneeling behind Parvati. Hermione licked at the dark marks on the exotic witch’s skin, placing her own tender touches on her husband’s possessive marks as Parvati made a low keening sound. Smiling, the former Head Girl leaned forward to kiss Harry; their lips and tongues meeting and mating in their mouths with unrestrained desire.

Hermione broke the kiss and swiped a dollop of precum from Parvati’s stomach, making eye-contact with her husband before playfully swiping at the viscous liquid on her finger with her tongue.

Harry’s eyes darkened with lust as he growled.

His wife winked at him and got up, leaving him with the two lush witches in favor of attending to a neglected Padma. The Ravenclaw twin could barely do more than squeak when Hermione pinned her to the wall and forcibly kissed her, plundering mouth while their bodies rubbed against one another. The pretty Indian witch moaned as Hermione tweaked her nipples, her dominance reminding the exotic witch that the brown-haired beauty was still one of the Mistresses of the House. The Gryffindor broke their liplock when Padma released a small whimper; watching as the dark-skinned witch submissively fell to her knees and cupped Hermione’s firm arse, pushing aside her sarong to lap at the tiny scrap of cloth between her pussy and Padma’s tongue.

The witches manoeuvred themselves to Hermione would have a full view of her husband and co-wife with their respective lovers. The brunette leaned back to enjoy the show and the sensation of Padma’s lips and tongue before…

The phone rang.

Harry cursed.

I’ll get it, sighed Hermione, gently pushing Padma away and smiling at Harry’s grateful look. With an exasperated sigh, she moved inside to pick up the offending receiver.

Potter speaking.

Granger! Where’s that—

Hermione jerked her head back and stared at the phone in horror. Malfoy?! she all but screamed, just as the entire party outside looked at each other in pure shock. Parvati didn’t even notice when she fell out of Harry’s lap.

How the hell did you get this number!?

’

It was much, much later that the Dark Lord assembled a crack team of elite Death Eaters — the ones who knew the difference between right and left — to interrupt Harry Potter’s vacation and force him to witness the ultimate triumph of Draco Malfoy.

Mind you, this was after Draco had finished gnawing and tearing into every available portkey-worthy item in the house, after the disaster involving the telephone.

Every Death-Eater in the room made a quiet, solemn vow to never, ever piss off the Potter wives.

Which now meant that instead of Portkey, apparation was the only available method of transport.

Draco looked at the coordinates with a glare of triumph, his mind awhirl with conquered nations, lusty witches (including Potter’s mudblood and bloodtraitor wives) and Potter himself chained naked to his throne. The Dark Lord began to giggle uncontrollably.

His minions looked around awkwardly. Astoria and Pansy looked both bored and annoyed.

A minion coughed delicately.

Draco snapped out of it and looked around with a sneer. Remember the coordinates? he asked, brandishing a piece of paper.

His minions nodded, letting Draco put the paper on the table before apparating away with their boss.

Pansy idly took up the paper, cocking her head curiously at what appeared to be a smudge on one of the numbers.

She rubbed it off and looked at the paper again, her lips twitching.

What’s wrong? asked Astoria, coming up behind the other witch. Wordlessly, Pansy showed the new coordinates, the ‘13’ now really an ‘18’.

The blonde witch’s eyes widened before she began to snicker. Pansy had given up holding back her mirth and was now doubled over with laughter.

After several minutes, Astoria straightened herself and looked at the coordinates. I haven’t seen Daph for a while, she managed to chuckle out; Let’s pay her a visit.

Hand-in-hand, the two witches disapparated with a ‘pop’. On arriving, Astoria squinted slightly at the sudden burst of darkness in her destination.

Then she heard Pansy make some sort of whimpering noise, before she realized what was going on. Her eyes roved over the scene — and the wands pointed at her, before meeting her sister’s shocked blue eyes.

Meep, she squeaked.

’

There was a charged atmosphere of sensual playfulness in the Potter suite; a far cry from the charged sexual frenzy of the morning and the terror-inducing rage against the Customer Services Department of the afternoon (though, somewhat fortunately, the wards had then been redesigned to only allow family and close friends through). It was not unusual; the evening hours were always a time of relaxation for the Potters and it was no different in the bedroom.

It was a part of the day that Harry rather enjoyed. The Master Unspeakable was already relaxing on the middle of the bed, the crisp sheets slung low on his hips. The cool ocean breeze wafting in from the open balcony contrasted with the warmth of the two sensual women pressed against his sides.

Harry swept his hand down Fleur’s long silver locks, running the silken strands through his fingers as the vain part-Veela purred sensuously. The curvaceous French witch arched her back with a pleased sigh before her wizard’s lips pressed against hers and swept his tongue against her mouth. Their kiss was warm and loving; their lips separating almost regretfully before Daphne nuzzled against her husband’s neck.

The Boy-Who-Lived turned to his right, just as the Slytherin witch engaged him in liplock. His arm automatically wrapped around her waist, while hers looped around his neck and pressed him closer. Fleur watched indulgently, a small smile playing on her lips.

Soft footsteps then heralded Hermione’s entrance as she stepped away from the balcony, wearing a smile and a small belted robe over a skimpy negligee. The curly-haired brunette had barely even begun to undo her belt before two near identical witches suddenly pinned her between themselves.

Hermione’s surprised squeak did nothing to deter Parvati and Padma as the two sandwiched the bookworm between them, identical wicked grins on their faces. The look of surprise on her face was almost comical when Parvati bound her hands over her head, while Padma spooned against her, pressing firm, perky breasts against Hermione’s back. The brunette turned pleading eyes to her husband, who was now watching with interest.

Then Harry winked at his usually-dominant wife and mouthed Have fun.

Hermione ‘eep’ed before letting out a surprised moan when Padma swept slim fingers over the fabric of her skimpy knickers. She writhed as the Indian witch pressed and stroked her rapidly-moistening pussy through her negligee, a shocked Ah! escaping her when the Ravenclaw pressed down on her clit.

Then the sensation was gone. Something wet pressed against her lips.

Padma’s damp fingers.

Slowly, Hermione took the appendages into her warm, wet mouth, tasting her own juices. She dutifully cleaned the witch’s fingers, suckling and licking at the digits with skilful enthusiasm. Padma moaned and drew out of the brunette’s mouth, only for Parvati to suddenly rise up.

Hermione found her mouth pressed against a dusky breast. Unhesitatingly, she began to suckle at the dark nipple, surrendering to the fact that the Twins were now in control.

Harry watched the entire thing with a sort of aroused fascination. The sheer kinkiness — and irony — of his strong-willed wife having her usual dominance among their lovers reversed was not lost on him. As he watched the side of Hermione that only he and Daphne had seen, his grip on his free wife’s bare hip tightened slightly. He was then very aware of the full, luscious breasts and their hard nipples pressing against him.

Harry’s hand dropped down to the Slytherin’s supple arse, kneading and massaging the firm, pliable flesh while his eyes were fixed on the three writhing brunettes.

Fleur’s hand closed around the base of his semi-erect cock.

Blazing green eyes met lust-filled crystal-blue.

Dimly, he was aware of Daphne sucking and biting gently at his pectorals, marking each his upper torso while Fleur leaned over to nip at his neck. Both blonde and brunette gave identical moans of pleasure when their mutual lover cupped their breasts and brushed against their straining nipples with playful swipes of his thumb.

Harry’s hips arched slightly when Daphne’s hand closed around the upper portion of his cloak. An excruciatingly teasing rhythm was set up, with both witches’ hands moving in slow, tandemic rhythm. Harry almost whimpered.

Then he felt two pairs of lips ghost their way down the planes of his frame, and warm breath on the tip of his cock. Warm, wet tongues licked up and around the wizard’s pulsing prick, leaving wet lines along the appendage. Hot lips suckled at the prominent vein while the other kissed and lapped all around the tip of his manhood.

Then a warm, wet heat enveloped the bulging purple cockhead. Harry didn’t even need to look as Fleur sank her lovely lips further and further down his cock, taking him deep into her throat. The beautiful Veela witch sucked and massaged the vast pillar of flesh with mouth and throat, before reluctantly disengaging; stopping at the tip to give strong sucks to the weeping cockhead.

She then pulled back, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the tip of Harry’s cock to her lips.

Then Daphne took over.

Harry’s head hit the pillow as his wife continued the sensuous blowjob, the result of years of sneaking out for a quickie and tutelage from her Veela compatriot.

The adjoining door opened, permitting a robed Lavender in, damp and flushed from a luxurious shower. The beautiful blonde came to a stop when she looked at the bed, grey eyes widening at the sight… though a small smirk cracked her face when she saw Hermione’s predicament.

Then the witch shrugged and let her robe drop from her shoulders, revealing her flushed, bare form. The witch strode to the bed with seductive grace before crawling in. Quick as lightning, Harry reeled her in, pulling her to him while Daphne and Fleur alternated teasing him.

Lavender swung her leg over Harry’s face, her eyes fluttering as Harry pulled her dripping twat to his mouth. He licked up and down her pussylips, teasing the slick folds of flesh while avoiding her clit. The man gave her firm arse a deliberate squeeze, pushing her deeper into his mouth. He gave her clit a lick and a swift nip — provoking a delighted little scream — before his tongue drove deep into the busty witch’s gushing hole.

Then Harry slowly drove one, then two fingers in as Lavender writhed above him, alternating languid licks with quick finger-thrusts. Lavender squealed and tried to buck, only to be held firmly in place.

All the sexual activity, however, did not obscure a finely-tuned danger sense. As fast as lightning, six blazing wands were pointed at a brief displacement of air that heralded an apparition.

Two witches appeared, one a familiar blonde, the other a short-haired brunette. The new arrivals looked disoriented, before they came to attention.

Slowly, their eyes widened. The dark-haired one’s eyes fixated on Lavender and Harry.

And Daphne Potter, formerly Daphne Greengrass, could only stare in shock when she recognized her younger sister. When Astoria’s eyes settled on her brother-in-law’s frame, Daphne had the sudden urge to gloat.

’

Draco Malfoy woke up feeling fairly dizzy. The would-be Dark Lord looked around in confusion at the small, wooden hut he seemed to be in, wondering where his minions were.

Lookie here, paw! `Dis one’s awake!

Draco looked up at the sound of the brutish voice, only to see a massive, overalls-clad Muggle wearing a straw hat and a dim look on his brutish face.

The dim look suddenly turned into a horrifyingly lecherous grin.

Draco barely held back a whimper when the man said You’se gots a purdy mouth.

Consider this… inspiration, for those of you who are resisting the temptation of a certain recent idea of mine.

Dan Yetman

I really, really apologise for this in advance. I was cleaning up after my fiancée’s dog, and this sort of popped into my head:

So… you’re telling me that in order to defeat the Dark Lord, you need me to help you infiltrate his headquarters? Draco Malfoy drawled, inwardly loving the situation. Stupid Potty and his mudblood girlfriend, and that bizarre blonde Ravenclaw with the tits coming to HIM for help.

Truth be told, Draco had no love for Voldemort — yes, he could think that imbecilic name, if not say it aloud. Voldemort was a fool; even Draco was aware of the fallacies of the single-minded vision of conquest that the man professed. Leave nothing but purebloods? They’d all be dead or dying within a decade! No pureblood would lower himself to menial tasks, and House Elves hadn’t the intelligence or quickness of mind to fill that gap. No, there needed to be a servant class.

Harry Potter’s emerald-hued gaze didn’t waver as he stared at his self-proclaimed rival. Yes, he said simply. I know that you don’t have a Dark Mark.

Oh, is that all it takes to be trusted? The blonde Malfoy scion sneered.

No, Potter’s mudblood stated, and Draco fumed at the impertinence that she had! Potter was sort of tolerable to deal with — he was a half-blood, after all, even if he didn’t act it — but that this mistaken waste piece of Magic Herself would dare to butt in? Still, she had her talents, and he refrained from rightfully putting the little bitch in her place. But think of it this way, Malfoy, she continued, a gleam in her eye. If daddy Malfoy is gone, then who runs the Malfoy affairs? Not your mother — she’s a Black, even if she did marry up.

One blonde eyebrow arched, and Draco allowed a disgusted sort of admiration for her… for a bit. True, Draco agreed. But I’ll get that when that old fool croaks himself when the Dark Lord falls. All you’d be doing is speeding it up a bit, and I can afford to wait.

The blonde Ravenclaw’s eyes suddenly sort-of focused on him. How about this, Draco Malfoy, she offered. You agree to help us, and I’ll give you anal sex all the time.

The universe seemed to suddenly tilt to one side, wobble into a corner, and trip over a yodeling llama… at least, that’s what it felt like — just a bizarre albeit profound feeling of unreality seeping in and yapping around the ankles.

Luna!! The mudblood shrieked, and Draco felt much the same way, although the only indication that Potter had even heard the scandalous statement was a quirked eyebrow. You can’t… I mean… honestly, really… ! But—

Yes, that’s where the phallus would go, Luna agreed sedately, and Draco found himself fighting a grin. Shagging her? She was a pureblood, so that would be socially acceptable… respectable, even. And there was no way that Pansy or any of his prospective female partners would consent to such a quintessentially ‘muggle’ act.

All the time? He asked cagily.

Until you couldn’t stand, Luna agreed. Draco considered this, and frowned.

I won’t marry you, Draco pointed out, and Luna frowned, her eyebrows knitting together.

I don’t want to marry you, she said, somewhat sharply, I just offered to give you anal sex. The mudblood was sort of gasping… hyperventilating, that was the word. Draco stuck out his hand.

On my life’s blood, I agree.

’

It was a week after the final battle, and Voldemort and his Death Eaters were currently engaged in feeding fly larvae. It was, after all, a most productive past-time… for a corpse, that is. Harry was walking down what had once been the third-floor corridor where he’d first met Fluffy, all those years ago, when Hermione sidled up and took his arm.

Do you really think we did the right thing, Harry? she asked, squeezing her boyfriend’s arm. I mean, we did sort of throw Luna to the wolves for this. Honestly! Anal sex? With that obnoxious prick?

If you recall, Harry said easily, Luna wasn’t so much thrown as she was taking a leap after a running start. She offered it.

But she shouldn’t have! Hermione fretted, biting her lower lip. To do something so degrading… and with Malfoy?! It’s disgusting.

I don’t think you quite understood Luna’s offer, Hermione, Harry smiled. See, what she —

Potter, you bastard! The pair whirled around to find… Draco Malfoy, clawing his way towards them with his hands, dragging his feet behind him. You… ! I… ! Graaagh!

Oh, so that’s where you got to! Luna’s voice floated out, and Draco whimpered and curled up in on himself.

Hermione watched with a sort of detached amusement as Luna, naked save for a gigantic strap-on dildo, flounced out into the corridor, swept her arm down, and snagged Draco by the belt. Thank you for finding him, Hermione, Harry, she said breezily. I’d sort of panicked when I saw he’d gnawed free of his restraints. Now, she said, smiling at the sobbing Slytherin, let’s go find those pineapples like I promised you! Aren’t you excited?

Potter! I’ll fucking kill you! Draco screamed with equal parts vitriol and terror as Luna dragged him away.

Hermione’s jaw was currently dangling somewhere around her knees as Harry turned back to her. You were saying? he asked casually.

Nevermind, Hermione muttered.

wordhammer

I was reading over the Master of Death piece that was mentioned earlier. I had concocted my own ‘end of Hallows’ remake using the Master of Death idea, but it’s barely more than an outline for a smutty one-shot. Nonetheless, and at risk of violating a rule or two, I humbly submit this for your entertainment.

Post-battle, Harry is emotionally depleted. Harry had wandered the entirety of Hogwarts under his invisibility Cloak, hoping to find a friendly face to engage in a moment of solace, some small act of intimacy to remind him why he was trying to save magical Britain in the first place.

Well, not so much. Everyone is having sex but him.

Harry finds Ron is back-ending Hermione in his bunk, Ginny is accepting several hold-out offers at once in the Gryffindor common room, Susan and Hannah are in the Charms classroom joining for their last hurrah while Neville watches so he can take Hannah afterwards. In the Divination tower, Padma has found incest acceptable, much to Parvati’s relief and Sibyl Trelawney’s happy observation. Lavender and Vicky Frobisher are dancing naked for the younger students in the Great Hall. Out on the Quidditch pitch Romilda Vane has engaged Dennis Creevey in some consolation nookie after the death of his brother. Luna is disciplining several Slytherins of both sexes in the potions lab. The Malfoys are celebrating their survival in an unusually close and unclothed ritual in the Transfiguration classroom. Even Professor McGonagall is overwhelming Filius Flitwick in her office and Poppy Pomfrey has taken time out of her Healing schedule to reacquaint Argus Filch with humanity in the Hospital supply closet. Fred is dead, but George is making up for his absence with the graduated chasers in the Astronomy tower, having left his employee Verity in a post-shag haze lying on a staircase. Down at the Shrieking Shack, the elder Weasleys are attempting to replace Fred in their children’s headcount. Somewhere in the forest Fleur and Bill are playing ‘catch the dryad’.

Doesn’t anybody love Harry? At least, anyone attractive?

Harry Potter slumped down in the great carved-wood chair in the Headmaster’s office. A minute later, his thoughts were interrupted by Pomona Sprout leading a quite drunk Hagrid by his prodigious ‘creature’ into the office from the staircase door.

Come my great hairy beast, I want you to fulfil a special fantasy of mine… OH! Mr. Potter! We didn’t see you there! Ehh, perhaps it’s best if neither of us ever bother remembering this moment. I could Oblivi… 

OUT!

Yes, yes, of course… ye mopey little brat.

Harry sank back into the chair, nearly in tears. No one wanted him.

I’m so very, very sorry, my boy.

Albus?

The former Headmaster’s portrait, the only one occupying its frame in fact, sprung to life. Harry turned to look at his grandfatherly former teacher, who was exhibiting an unusually high twinkle in his eye at that moment.

Yes, Harry. I am sorry. I expected to survive to this point. You would have been left alone. We could have had… a very pleasant time together.

You mean, everyone shagging right now is doing so from some pre-planned set of compulsions or something?

Not quite all by Compulsions, no. This has been one of the most carefully planned seductions I have ever attempted. Poor planning on my part, making it come to fruition after I’m dead. I am very sorry. Perhaps, as you rule all the Deathly Hallows, it might be possible to bring me back to life, if only for a short, wondrous time. Would you do that, for your mentor who gave you so much?

All this so you could arrange for me to bugger you?

Or me you, age before beauty and all that rot. Harry, don’t misinterpret me. I have held you in the highest esteem and greatest affection for many years now. It would mean so much to me, you can’t imagine, for us to have this time together.

How do I do it?

Excellent! Put on your Cloak, summon the Resurrection Stone to your hand and hold the Elder Wand forth and then say ‘I, Harry Potter the Master of Death, bring forth from the shadowed lands, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!’ I should then be called back and given a temporary body, and we can meet once more, as men.

Harry smiled.

Accio Resurrection Stone.

A few minutes later, a plain looking gold ring shot into the Headmaster’s office through the window, caught deftly by Harry’s seeker reflexes. Harry stood up, threw his father’s cloak around his shoulders, held the ring in his left hand while pointing his old Headmaster’s wand towards the heavens.

Careful Harry! The ability of the Master to call back the dead in this way is rumoured to be a one-time power.

I understand, sir.

Harry looked down for a moment before returning to his position of invocation.

I, Harry Potter the Master of Death, bring forth from the shadowed lands, Nymphadora Tonks!

What? No! You can’t do that! I was meant to come back!

If you wanted me so badly, why go through all this?

You’re resistant to the Imperius! I don’t understand, Harry. You’ve been neglected and abused all your life and there isn’t a woman alive who hasn’t betrayed you. How could you choose a woman, much less that bubble-brained trollop?

Said pink-haired former Auror faded into view directly in front of Harry, wearing three layers of tight T-shirts, denim shorts over black leggings and a pair of pink Doc Martens boots that matched her hair color.

Oi! Your speakin’ ill of the recently dead, you wrinkled old bastard! Wotcher, Harry!

Tonks! It’s so wonderful to see you! Sorry I had to use your first name, I … 

Tonks stepped forward and with an idle wave of her hand the portrait of Albus Dumbledore was Silenced. Tonks then proceeded to reach forward and draw Harry’s face to hers, snogging Harry senseless of the next 5 minutes. Harry revelled in the intimate contact until they finally broke the kiss with identical smiles.

Well met! Aren’t you, I dunno, upsetting Moony right now?

Fuck him. You don’t know Hell until you’ve tried to seduce a superstrong nerd with ego-crushing esteem issues. Tell me one thing, Harry. If I told you I never loved him and wanted you to shag me rotten in front of everyone in the Great Hall right now, what would you say?

Um, why did you return from the dead wearing different clothes?

Harry, that’s not important right now… 

It certainly is! Do you know how many more seconds it’s going to take for me to enact that, having to bother stripping you first?

Oooh! Good answer! I’ve a better one: you’re a wizard, Harry. Use your wand!

Harry and Tonks apparate to the Great Hall (the wards preventing such having been broken during the battle), where Harry sends out his voice to the entire castle and grounds asking everyone to come to the Great Hall for an important announcement. Once nearly everyone is quickly assembled, Harry steps up with Tonks holding him from behind in a loose hug.

I am Harry Potter and I have something to say. Fuck you.

A wave of magic starts rippling out from Harry, or more specifically from the Elder Wand held loosely in his hand.

Tonks turns Harry in her arms, smiling. Fuck me?

Harry Vanishes all their clothing except for his socks and the Cloak around his shoulders. The wand drops to the floor.

First, last and always.

Harry begins to take Tonks in an epic shagging, finishing their first orgasm in 44 seconds and their fifth around the ten minute mark, during which every witch present shakes off their magical confusion to realise the mistake they made in trusting Albus Dumbledore. Hermione swings at Ron, knocking him out in one punch, and then begins to empty her stomach onto the stone floor; Ginny curls up in a weeping ball of humiliation as six boys from various Houses sheepishly wander away from her. Susan and Hannah give each other apologetic looks. Padma is stopped from slitting her arms open by Neville, while Parvati walks up to Susan with her head bowed and puts her hand in the surprised but pleased Hufflepuff’s. Molly starts to bustle towards the head table where Harry is pounding Tonks into the wood, but is Stupefied by half the DA before getting within 10 steps. Arthur coughs and then lifts up his unconscious wife with a spell, floating her away from the activity with a mumbled ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

After Harry and Tonks come down from their latest coupling, Harry starts to cry.

Harry, sweetie, what’s the matter?

I finally find love, and you’ll be taken away from me soon.

What? Why?

Albus said… 

Yeah, well there’s your first mistake. You’ve brought me back sweets. I’m not leaving this earth again without leaving you a fair baker’s dozen of insane green-eyed metamorph babies to keep you company, and I’d appreciate it if we could take careers that don’t threaten to foreshorten that plan, aye?

You want to marry me, have my children and live a long and prosperous life doing nothing in particular?

That sums it, sweet cheeks. Given that, why do you suppose I would want to hook up with a tragically depressed, short-lived man with a disease that makes him physically abusive at least 3 days a month?

Magic?

Bad magic. Let’s make babies!

They return to the public romping. Most of the agape crowd begins to wander off just as Luna walks in clumsily on her four inch stilettos wearing black vinyl dominatrix garb that clashes against her pure white skin.

What did I miss? Oh, good on you then, Harry. Well, back to the mines!

Hermione pops up from her position on the floor, face half-covered in sick.

Um, Luna. Could you wait up? I think I need to release some aggression!

I thought you’d never ask… whoops!

Hermione catches the stumbling blond from behind, holding her up with Hermione’s hands grasping Luna’s breasts.

Oh! So sorry!

Oh, don’t let go Hermione or I may have to discipline you as well. Come my dear!

Soon enough I’m sure. I think I’m headed that way… 

Eventually everyone leaves to allow Harry and Tonks their time, except for a young fourth year girl named Orla Quirke who sits beneath the Ravenclaw table watching their coupling in rapt fascination, one hand sketching furiously in charcoal while the other is stuck down her skirt.

Uhhnn! (Gasp!) Fascinating!

Her last stick of charcoal breaks.

Oh, bugger!

Tonks and Harry reply:

Unh! Ohh! Ooh! No thanks!

BSJinx

When Harry had finished his business upstairs, to the disappointment of his new maids, he returned to help them set a few guidelines. He would be taking a few days off to get things rolling; fortunately, no one who valued his or her life would send him paperwork without his consent.

Three of the new maids (Narcissa and the Delacours) seemed enthusiastic about their new positions, while the others (Hermione, Daphne, and Astoria) seemed less sure of themselves. Therefore, it made sense to pair members of each group together so that they could learn to work together, and perhaps so the more timid maids could gain some confidence. In addition, he decided that women who’d worked together before might slack off, so he asked that Fleur not pair with Hermione, or Narcissa with Astoria.

In the end, it was decided that Hermione and Narcissa would work as a team, as would Fleur and Daphne, and Gabrielle paired with Astoria. As it happened, Harry had three tasks that we wanted to see accomplished most quickly, so one pair would be assigned to each.

 

When Harry mentioned the word library, there was no doubt where Hermione would run to next. Harry followed her, chuckling to himself, with Narcissa left far behind.

Through acquisitions from Death Eaters and other wizards and witches now gone, purchases, inheritance, and gifts, the Magetower had assembled a library of remarkable size and diversity. Unfortunately, since its books came from so many disparate sources, there was no organization or structure to it. In the long run, Harry hoped to do some research of his own, but he had to know what he had first.

When Harry reached the room hosting the largest shelves, he wasn’t surprised to find Hermione gazing in wonder at the stacks and shelves of tomes, her eyes sparkling and mouth open and on the verge of drooling.

Impressive, isn’t it? Harry asked. Hermione jumped and turned around.

But it’s not very useful to me if I can’t make any sense of the books. This will be your and Narcissa’s first assignment— to put these books in some kind of order. I recognize that it can’t be done quickly, but I’d like you to get started.

Yes, Harry, Hermione said as she stepped onto the ladder provided.

That’s Yes, MASTER Harry,  Narcissa corrected crisply. She was standing in the door to the library, one hand braced against the doorframe. You must show our Master the proper respect, Hermione. With that, she sauntered over to the other two, hips rolling and heels tapping a slow, steady rhythm against the marble floor.

Hermione was climbing the ladder, and was now four or five steps up. Harry moved to brace her.

Master, we are here to perform these tasks so that you need not exhaust yourself. Allow me to assist Hermione, if you please. Narcissa’s tone was cool, but she smiled as Harry stepped back. Narcissa placed her hands to Hermione’s legs just below the knees. Are you stable enough to work up there? she inquired.

I’m fine, I think, Hermione replied, a little nervously.

Then by all means, go to work, Harry smiled as he sat down in a comfortable chair to watch them.

Hermione pulled the books out of the top shelf one by one, examining each and setting them into floating piles based on some scheme or another. Soon, there were four growing stacks floating by her. She kept up a run of commentary, impressed by the age of the books and the scholastic reputation of their authors.

Meanwhile, a couple of steps below her, Narcissa was also ‘working.’ Her hands gradually rubbed onto Hermione’s thighs. Quietly and deftly, her fingers moved up to the garters holding Hermione’s stockings up. One by one, Narcissa unfastened them and slowly rolled the stockings down. She was impressed by Hermione’s tan; Narcissa had never tanned well, and Egypt had been kind to Hermione’s skin, if not to her bank account. Harry watched her actions intently, and Narcissa returned a smile with a finger pressed against her lips.

Inevitably, just as Hermione reached the last book on the shelf, her heel slipped on the ladder rung. Fortunately, Narcissa was in position to clutch Hermione’s thighs and keep her steady. The stacks of books swayed and dipped but remained intact above them.

Thank— thank you, Hermione stammered, not really noticing what Narcissa had done.

Not a problem, Hermione. Now, let’s get you off of this ladder before something unpleasant happens. With surprising strength, Narcissa picked up Hermione and carried her down, allowing the latter to use her wand to wave the stacks of books onto the floor.

Narcissa crossed the library lounge to a chaise lounge, Hermione in her arms with one hand over Narcissa’s shoulders. Thank you for your help up there, really, Hermione said quietly.

Narcissa laid Hermione down and then sat beside her, placing Hermione’s head on her thighs. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, for our Master’s sake, Narcissa replied quietly while gently stroking Hermione’s wavy hair.

At this point, Harry excused himself to check on the other teams.

 

Harry had only managed to clear one of the Magetower’s bedrooms of the sentient dust creatures, leaving several others in dire need of cleaning. Fleur and Daphne had gone to the closest one to examine the room. Harry arrived just as they’d finished sweeping the floor on one side of the bed.

Now begins ze difficult part, Fleur pronounced. We must clean beneath ze bed to prevent ze birth of any more of zese things.

Can’t we perform spells to do that? Daphne answered, sounding a bit tired.

Non, non, non! Ze ‘ole problem is zat ze dust is starting to move by itself. What sense would it make to animate ze dust on its own? Fleur replied, agitated. No, ze only way forward is to go down zere and do the work ourselves with our own ‘ands.

Daphne looked away from Fleur and happened to see Harry standing in the doorway, and she suddenly brightened. I see, she replied slowly. Let’s start with the other side of the bed first.

Fleur was about to question this, but she turned to see Harry and immediately understood. Oui, she chirped. The two women walked over closer to the door, bent at the waist to get dustpans and scouring pads, providing Harry with a fine view of their garters and upper thighs.

Do you have everything you need? Harry managed to sputter.

I believe so, Master, Fleur answered. Of course, it may be that we need somezing else from you once we’re really working. She gave Harry one of her dazzling smiles; Harry was immune to her Veela charms, but her charms as a Frenchwoman were quite formidable by themselves. She and Daphne then crawled under the bed, presenting Harry with two impressively firm derrieres and four toned legs in stockings and garters.

Master, do you like our work so far? Daphne called.

Oh, yes… I mean, you seem to have done well in this part of the room, Harry stammered.

Zat’s good to hear, Master. I believe we are doing fine down ‘ere. We’ll call if we need anyzing, Fleur replied. Harry carefully left the room.

 

The third task was much simpler in comparison— Harry had asked for Gabrielle and Astoria to draw him a bath in a couple of hours.

As he headed for the nearest bathroom, he was surprised to find Gabrielle marching past him with two buckets full of water, whistling ‘L’apprenti sorcier.’

Gabrielle, why are you carrying buckets? Harry asked in confusion.

Ah! Gabrielle stopped as if surprised, causing some of the water to slosh over her uniform. This rendered the uniform skintight, and the cold water had a predictable visual effect.

Master, I’m afraid zat— zat— Gabrielle sputtered. Oh, you tell him, Astoria, I don’t want to say it!

Astoria had come within a few steps, carrying buckets of her own, which she now set down. Gabrielle, come over here, she cooed, and the younger Delacour dropped her buckets and ran to the younger Mrs. Malfoy’s embrace.

It’s not a serious problem, Master, Astoria explained while hugging Gabrielle. The faucets in this bathroom do not work properly, and we have been unable to get a plumber until tomorrow. So we decided to get water from the spring, carry it in, and heat it ourselves to give you a proper warm bath. Gabrielle was afraid that you’d punish us if the bath wasn’t ready yet.

Well, I might punish you later, but not right now. Just keep going, and I’ll let you know when I’m ready for that bath. Is that understood? Harry asked as Gabrielle slowly separated herself from her fellow maid.

Yes, Master, the two chorused.

Gabrielle, Harry said more firmly, I may punish you later for concealing information from me, he continued as he walked toward the blonde and tipped up her chin to look her in the eyes. But not right now. Just do your job, and we’ll see what comes next.

Yes, Master! Gabrielle beamed as she picked up her buckets. Behind her, Astoria followed suit.

 

So there are three scenes ready for Harry to follow up on, as it were. Let me know if you want me to do so, or do it yourselves.