Chapter 35

Harry leaned back, enjoying the comfort while waiting for Daphne to arrive at his side. Daphne strutted forward, her hips dancing to create a beautiful show accompanied by the gentle sway of her tits, but he kept his gaze firmly on Tracey's face to make a point, enjoying the blooming desperation on her face. It was understandable, Harry thought. After all, she was bound in chains, dressed only in a pair of panties, which, while substantial, failed to hide much in their soaked state. The uncaring attitude of her supposed best friend didn't help either.

Though, when Daphne arrived at his side and sat on his knee, Harry saw anger flickering on her face once more, but this time, the target wasn't him, but her supposed best friend. Understandable, Harry thought. After all, Tracey had went through a humiliating ordeal, putting her body on the line to a level she hadn't even done to ensure her own safety, only for Daphne to spit on her sacrifice and walk back to his lap like an obedient toy without the slightest argument.

Tracey stayed silent until Harry grabbed Daphne's hips and led her to his shaft, sliding himself in with one smooth movement. It slipped in without the slightest resistance thanks to her wetness, informing him that she had enjoyed earlier parts of the show. Her tightness was impressive as usual. Harry was about to initiate a conversation hoping to pull Tracey in, but Tracey proved faster. "Why, Daphne?" Tracey asked, trying to sound cold, but she was unable to hide her anguish.

Daphne proved the value of her training by twisting to meet his eyes, wordlessly asking for permission. Harry nodded, curious of Daphne's answer, though he kept his hands on her hips, impaling her repeatedly as she tried to compile her answer, which took quite a while. "He's strong," Daphne answered almost a minute later.

"He's strong!" Tracey repeated, but unlike Daphne whose voice was filled with reverence and fear, Tracey's was pure anger.

"Yes," Daphne answered, which would have been a heavy answer if Harry hadn't chosen that point to spank her sharply, forcing her to continue with a moan. Even then, her hips continued their persistent dance.

"What kind of nonsense is this?" Tracey answered desperately. "Daphne, this isn't like you. We can still fight, as we fought against the seventh years when we were only fourth years. They were strong as well, but in the end, they were helpless under our persistence. Why the hell you chose to obey a Gryffindor of all things after all the fights we had gone through."

"Tracey, you don't understand," Daphne countered, but her sentence was interrupted by a moan, making Tracey's anger even more pronounced. Still, her relative coherence was rather impressive as his shaft was invading her insides repeatedly while his hands explored her body, with occasional spanking to warn her whenever she slowed down. "When I say strong, I don't mean he's strong compared to me, or he's just stronger than a few seventh years with bloated egos and a couple of spells."

"Then help me understand," Tracey answered.

"Do you remember the rumors at the end of the second year…"

"Of course," Tracey scoffed. "The so-called Chamber and it's a monster. Come on, Daphne, you're smart enough to know that it was a bunch of lies Dumbledore spewed to take his position back after Malfoy's ploy. How can there was a monster under the school, and even if there was, how can a second-year defeat a monster."

Daphne looked at her seriously. More accurately, as serious as she could manage while she was trying to resist the pleasure from his ruthless treatment. "It's not just rumors, Tracey. I have been in the Chamber of Secrets, and I have seen the monster below. A huge basilisk, much bigger than anything I had ever heard, and he killed that only when he was a little boy."

"Still, maybe it was just luck-" Tracey tried to counter, but Daphne cut her off.

"Even if that was luck, it doesn't change the fact that I have felt his power, thick, blanketing, and unbeatable. Why do you think that I'm not even bothering to resist?" Daphne added desperately, doing her best to convince her roommate to his merits.

"Maybe because you're a fucking slut that only needed a stiff fucking to teach you your place," Harry cut in, once again punctuating his sentence with a slap. And, unlike Tracey was clearly expecting, Daphne's only reaction was to turn her head so she could catch his lips in a searing kiss, while her hips continued to their treatment.

Harry watched Tracey from the corner of his eye while the kiss lasted, curious about how she would react. For the first minute, she waited patiently, but it slowly dawned on her that Daphne had long abandoned the intention of continuing her explanation, and her patience got replaced with frustration. Harry had no doubt that if it wasn't for her chained state, she would have just walked away, but since she was locked to her spectator status, she chose to cut in instead. She tried to cough a few times at first, but Daphne failed to take notice of it. Of course, it wasn't completely in vain, because her repeated coughs had a nice effect on her modest bosom, something Harry enjoyed watching. Though, he had a feeling that Tracey wouldn't have been happy with that little nugget.

"Daphne!" she shouted a while later, her patience finally expanded.

"What?!" Daphne turned, clearly unhappy with the interruption. Understandable, because as evidenced by the way she was tightening around his girth, her climax was not too far away, and she didn't appreciate the interruption.

"I was saying that you don't have to humiliate yourself like that just because he's strong. He lacks support, and I'm sure the Ministry will be more than happy to protect you against him. You know they are just looking for an excuse to finish him."

Harry didn't know whether he should be impressed with her courage, or fascinated by her blindness. She somehow missed the fact plotting against her enemy in front of the said enemy while she was bound and trapped was a bad idea. But Daphne started speaking before he could tease Tracey about that. "Do you think that's the only rumor that's accurate, Tracey?" Daphne answered, slowing down as she tried to look serious, but Harry didn't want to lose the amusement aspect of their discussion, so he pushed her forward without warning, and she found herself on all fours, with Harry behind, ramming deep inside her.

It took a moment for Tracey's confusion to morph into shock. "You don't mean that one… But no … He can't be … back? He's supposed to be dead!"

"He says that Dark Lord is back, and I believe him," Daphne answered. "There's no benefit for him for lying about it, and you can see that in the common room that the scions of the darker families are quiet, but they are not bothering the neutrals like us… Too quiet, like they are expecting something-GGG!" Daphne explained, her explanation only losing coherence toward the end as her pleasure finally reached its peak, hitting her hard. Her words turned into moans, and she collapsed on the floor, trembling helplessly.

But for once, Tracey wasn't interested in the voluntary humiliation her friend was suffering. Her eyes were locked on Harry's face, a scared expression behind them. It didn't slip away, even when he pulled out and covered Daphne's body with his seed. "It's not true, is it?" Tracey asked with a begging tone.

"Unfortunately, it's true," Harry answered, but even as he did so, he waved his hand, and the chains holding Tracey's arms disappeared. "But your punishment is over. You can leave."

Tracey stumbled in shock, a blank expression on her face, but after looking at the door, she gazed on Daphne's lying figure once more. Harry sighed. "You can take her along as well," he said with a sudden sigh. He hadn't been expecting Riddle's return to shock Tracey to that level, and he didn't want to deal with the aftermath, not when he could leave Daphne to explain things to her, and then he could return to enjoy the fruits while Tracey begged for his protection to the best of her ability.

With that in mind, he quickly dressed and left for the Common Room, hoping to catch a bit of sleep before training, but his plans were stopped when one of the sixth year prefects dashed toward him. "Potter, Headmaster Dumbledore wants to see you," he said rapidly.

"Dumbledore is back?" Harry countered.

"Yes, and he said that he needs to speak with you urgently."

A frown appeared on his face as Harry started walking toward the headmaster's tower. Because he knew that, Dumbledore never called him for good news.

"Figures," he murmured as he watched Dumbledore disappear with a crack while he found himself in front of the place he most loathed. Privet Drive. The last hour had passed with a whirlwind as Dumbledore explained that Riddle finally sent his death-eaters to the ministry for a break-in, which triggered Order's response, and promptly turned into a heated skirmish, culminating with Riddle finally showing his face in the ministry for a fight with Dumbledore, only to retreat in defeat.

"Fucking patronizing idiot," he murmured as he dragged his truck toward the entrance. After such an incredible reversal, rather than hunting for Riddle's safehouses or his supporters, he came back to make sure that Harry was 'protected', or more accurately, locked in Privet Drive, neatly isolated from the events. He rang the doorbell repeatedly, frowning as his uncle's annoying yell reached his ears.

"What are you doing here this early, freak?" Vernon said as soon as he opened the door, as unhappy with Harry's sudden appearance almost as much as Harry was dissatisfied with his forced presence.

"The school ended up earlier than expected," Harry answered even as he sent a stab of legimency into Vernon's mind, and quickly tweaking his mind to avoid him. If he had the opportunity just a year ago, he might have embedded several humiliating habits into his mind, but he felt too lazy to actually do so. Ultimately, Vernon was inconsequential, and every second he spent on him was a loss. So, he just embedded the idea of going to dinner and a movie with Petunia, leaving the house for Harry.

Though, his apathy wasn't the only reason he didn't follow his revenge. After all, there was a chance that people observing him would notice the difference. Not a big one, considering most magicals treated muggles nothing more than zoo animals and paid almost no attention to their habits, but still, taking the risk was pointless. Dumbledore might decide to visit again, and less he had to suspect, the better. Harry doubted that Dumbledore would be happy with his new lifestyle.

With a sigh, he dragged his trunk upstairs and opened his bedroom door, only to meet with a dusty hell. "I hate the trace," he murmured as he closed the door and sat on the trunk. He didn't want to clean the mess by hand, but without his wand, he would be unable to clean it.

Or was it, he thought with a sudden realization and raised his hand. He took a deep breath, cleansing his mind while evoking the exact sensation that appeared in his mind, trying to force a cleaning charm from his fingers rather than his wand.

A sudden plume of dust filled the room as an immaterial rush of energy dislodged them. A failure, but still Harry smiled, because it proved that the concept was solid, he just needed to practice.

And practice he did. Three hours later, he was panting in exhaustion, bone-weary, but he was looking to a clean room. The most exhausting cleaning effort he had ever completed, but finally creating a basis for his wandless abilities was priceless. And the only reason he was able to succeed was his wandless abilities, allowing him to give his complete focus on controlling the magic. Without that, he doubted that he could have achieved the slightest success.

He lay on his bed, his eyes closed, for the first time, feeling the calm wave of magic that surrounded him. Even if he hadn't been able to cast any wandless spells, just the ability to feel the magic around himself was a reward enough. With his new ability, it would be truly impossible for him to get ambushed, not to mention he wouldn't have to rely entirely on his legimency to predict the attacks of his opponents.

He took a deep breath tried to expand the range, curious about the maximum range he could reach. First, the range covered his room only, with a tickling sensation radiating from his magical possessions only. He continued to expand, and soon, the second floor was completely covered in his range, but there, he started having trouble. Not because it was magically exhausting, but because processing all the extra information was getting difficult even with the help of the occlumency.

Still, he had something important to practice.

The next few days passed in a blur. Without access to the room of requirements, or friends that could help assist him to relax, Harry stayed focused on enhancing his wandless capabilities, and his new detection capabilities in particular. After some practice, he was easily able to expand his senses to cover the entirety of the house, which was once again empty with his aunt and uncle away for another outdoor activity, leaving him alone. And luckily, Dudley was still in school, so Harry didn't have to deal with his shanigans

In the end, hunger caught up with him earlier than exhaustion did. He went to the kitchen and prepared a sandwich for himself, then walked out of the garden in the back. He always liked that one, even when he was forced to stay there due to his chores, mostly because he liked the high walls that hid him from the view of the neighbors, allowing him to laze around without a distraction.

But when he walked out, he didn't find any comfort. Instead, he felt himself stiffen like he was under observation. He took a bite off his sandwich while trying to look nonchalant, his eyes browsing the space. He found what he was looking for soon after. A pair of invisible feet, pressing against the soft grass.

Harry didn't feel alarmed. It wasn't the first time the order members skulked around invisible for his protection without even bothering to inform him of that fact. He wondered about the identity of his silent observer, so he closed his eyes for a moment to expand his magical senses…

Only to meet with a unique, and very familiar presence.

It took all of his willpower to his smile when he recognized the unique presence of his silent observer, one that reminded him of an exhilarating mixture of fire and honey, one that, unlike most wizards and witches, could have been felt even without his enhanced magical sensitivity.

It had been a while he had seen Fleur…

However, he couldn't help but feel annoyed. After all, the last time he had seen her, they had an interesting night together where he assisted her on some intricacies of kissing, yet she didn't reach to him again despite her fervent promises to do otherwise.

Still, Harry thought with a smirk as he walked toward the small shed that held the garden equipment. Forgiving Fleur wasn't a challenge, but he wanted to mess with her a bit beforehand. From the shed, he pulled out the lawnmower. It was an old model that relied more on muscle power than its motor, but for Harry's intent, it was perfect. It gave him the perfect excuse to remove his shirt, displaying his naked torso -which got even more defined since their last time together thanks to his exercise regimen and the assistance of his magic.

It was a pity that Fleur was still hidden under the cloak. He would have liked to watch her expression of shock, and hopefully, desire. Though, a few seconds later, Harry realized that he didn't need to see her face to get a read on her mood, not when he could feel the sudden spike in her allure.

He took a strategic turn to hide his smirk from her until he could control his expression, feeling amused at the situation. After all the times he had to take action back in Hogwarts, it was an interesting experience to be the one that was being ogled, even though her stealth was much less effective than she might have assumed.

Talking to her, therefore revealing his information would have been the simplest thing to do. However, Harry had a different idea to explore, particularly, just how far Fleur would drag her silent observer act. So, he let out a loud sigh when he finally finished the garden, making a show of getting hot. "I need a shower," he murmured as he put the lawnmower back in the shed and walked back in, the source of allure following him after a moment of hesitation, the strain of her allure getting higher.

Harry was free to smirk in satisfaction since his back was turned at her while he climbed the stairs. He walked into the bathroom, but just as he was about to step in, he murmured to himself. "I need to get a towel." With that, he went to his room and picked a towel, using it as an excuse to give Fleur sufficient time to slip to the bathroom before he closed the door. Then, he walked in, closed the door. Then, he locked the door as well, just to drive the message in before quickly undressing.

He ignored the soft gasp that reached his ear in favor of turning on the hot water, blasting the room with a wall of steam. He smirked, enjoying the way the wall of steam covered the room, but, rather than stepping under the water, he turned to the corner of the room that looked empty, but hid a surprise guest.

"Would you like to join in, Fleur?" he asked as he looked at the empty space, enjoying the sudden spike of arousal carried by her allure.