Chapter 5

Harry groaned and lifted his hips higher as Pansy's plump lips tightened around the crown of his cock, her tongue swirling around the head like a popsicle. The uptight bitch was as tame as a rabbit how. He leaned forward, threading his fingers through her brown hair, and pulled it behind her ear, gazing into her dark orbs that glinted with barely hidden lust.

She looked up at him in adoration, her long eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly. She was being patient, and she was being a tease. He had gotten to know that much about her. Being in Slytherin had taught her at least as much. Prolong the pleasure as much as you could so that once the guy shot his load, he could not do anything more after that. That had been her way of protecting her innocence for as long as she had done.

It was morning, and he was in his room, sleeping bare-naked as he always did. Narcissa had been given her room and she had chosen to house their newest resident with her. Harry did not know what the two women did the night before once he was done taking them together, but his mind could easily conjure some very erotic images that made him throb inside her wanton mouth. He saw Pansy moan around his length, still looking up at him adoringly, and he chuckled.

He would have to make them do it in front of him. That was a sight he did not want to miss.

However, right now, he had his plate full of something else. Pansy's tongue dragged from the bottom of his shaft right where his ballsack was to the tip, grazing the underside of his cock. She swirled her tongue around the head once again before slowly sliding his throbbing length inside her sultry wet mouth. He was reclined on his bed, elbows plopped up over several cushions, giving him the perfect angle to watch her go about her duty.

She was an obedient one, and she did not shy away from taking initiative either. Not too different from Narcissa who he saw had just come in, not a stitch of clothing on her curvaceous form.

She had discarded the Malfoy name, having reverted to her maiden name, but she kept her given name. Narcissa Black, according to her, was her past and would be her future. Harry had no qualms about it.

He smirked at her and instructed her to come closer, and with an eager grin, she glided toward him.

"Get to work, you two," he told them once Narcissa had assumed her place beside Pansy. The blonde tapped the brunette on the back, wordlessly telling her to scoot to the side before she leaned downward and dragged her tongue over his balls.

"Good girl," he praised, his other hand coming up to comb through Narcissa's lustrous blonde hair.

Pansy could not see herself being outdone, and she took his shaft in her mouth, pressing the tip against the back of her throat. She gagged over his length, spittle flying out of her mouth, but that did nothing to curb either her enthusiasm or her competitive spirit. Instead, she plunged her mouth deeper, burying him to the hilt inside her mouth.

Harry grinned, and pressed his hand firmly on the back of her head, pushing her even further down his length, intent on making her gag and teary-eyed. He would turn her face red before painting it a creamy white.

"I'm close, you two," he muttered. "Cissa, suck my balls, Pansy, you better not waste even a drop or I'll be very… disappointed."

Pansy looked up at him through her eyelashes, batting her eyes thrillingly. Even a day ago, such a sight would've been foreign on her face, but just like Narcissa, she was eager to please, eager to receive commands and follow thoroughly. This bond was truly a brilliant piece of magic he had formed, and he could not wait to add more girls to his nicely growing collection.

Her lips were wrapped around the base of his cock, cheeks hollowed out as her tongue swirled around his length. She never dragged her lips backward, content in keeping them wrapped around him. Her tongue did all the work. He reveled in the feeling of being ensconced in her tight, warm mouth, wet from her spit and saliva as Narcissa rolled his balls around in her mouth.

With a groan of pleasure, Harry's hips shot upward and he erupted inside the brunette's wanton mouth. His hands were fisting their hair as he pushed their heads down on him, firing streams of his cum inside Pansy's mouth. She kept swallowing, gulp after gulp, her eyes widening at the amount of cum he was spurting inside her.

"Don't you dare waste even a drop, Pansy," he growled, and like the little submissive she was, she obliged without complaint. His eyes closed in elation, and he could feel his magic singing as he relieved himself. Unbidden, Narcissa's words about magical powerhouses and sex came to the forefront of his mind.

"Nnnghhh—" Pansy made a lewd sound, and Harry's eyes opened. He watched her mouth hollowing out, and he realized she was storing his seed inside her mouth to swallow at her leisure. Finally, he shot one last load and sighed.

Pansy kept his seed in her mouth and licked the tip clean of the last vestiges of his cum, and only when she was sure that nothing was left, she pulled her mouth off his cock and looked up at him. Harry saw her sit back on the bed and open her mouth, and he smirked at the sight of his cum on her tongue.

"Wait!" Narcissa called out suddenly, pulling away from his balls, and both turned toward her. "Don't be a greedy bint, Parkinson."

Before Pansy could react, Narcissa leaped forward and slammed her lips against the younger woman, making her eyes widen in surprise. She was even more surprised when the blonde pushed her tongue inside her mouth with the ferocity of an angry cat and stole all the seed she had kept in her mouth.

Harry stared at the sight before them and could do nothing but chuckle. It was quite a sight indeed.

-Break-

As was usual, Harry was in the bath with Narcissa washing his back. However, the only difference was that there was another beauty joining them. He sat in the bath, relaxed, as Pansy did his front.

"You look tense, my lord," the brunette said from in front of him. Narcissa looked over at the other woman before she looked at her lord.

"Have we done anything to displease you, my lord?" Narcissa asked gently, her hands slowly working on his shoulder blades, and Harry sighed in contentment.

"I'm just wondering about how to proceed, my dears," he replied. "You two are my treasures, but not enough. Not even close."

"Makes sense," Narcissa nodded. "You are the most powerful wizard in the world, and you need more than just us to both keep you satisfied and to count upon."

Pansy stared down in contemplation for a long moment before she looked up.

"My lord, if I may make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead, Pansy," Harry nodded encouragingly, chuckling to himself when she preened. Pureblood women and their desire for approval, praise, and attention. It was all too easy.

"There were many witches in and around our year at Hogwarts, and I feel most of them are beautiful and worthy enough to be called your followers."

"Cissa said something similar," he replied, looking at the blonde beauty who beamed at him for remembering her suggestion.

"And I still feel you should go for them, my lord!" She said enthusiastically. "I'm sure you have good relations with most of them already and it won't be too hard for you to make them realize the best place for them is under you."

"And those you don't know you very well…" Pansy said with a smirk. "Well… I'm sure it would be easy for you to make them realize as well. Just as you did with me."

Harry looked down at her as she pressed her naked front against his, their soapy bodies sliding against each other.

Leaning forward, Harry gave her a rough kiss, making her moan.

"You know what," he replied, his voice gravelly as he turned around and pulled both women against him. Their backs rested on his front and he pushed his fingers through their velvety folds, making them moan. "I think you two have a very good point."

-Break-

Harry walked out of the private fireplace he had in his office in the ministry, brushing off the soot absentmindedly as he walked over to his desk. As usual, a stack of parchment was arranged neatly on the desk. Harry sighed.

This was the only part of this job that he hated – having to deal with all the paperwork.

Zabini's prosecution had gone swimmingly. The asshole had no defense and he had taken a sadistic pleasure in watching him being carted off to Azkaban for his much-deserved crimes. A part of him wanted to expose his slut of a cumdump as well, but he decided against it.

He hated Ginny Weasley. There were no two ways about it. However, just because he had issues with a few from the family did not mean he held any enmity toward the Weasley clan.

The family had not come out unscathed from the war either.

The loss of two of their sons was insurmountable. Bill was someone he had always held in very high regard. The eldest son of the Weasleys had taken down Fenrir Greyback when the vicious werewolf had attacked Lavender Brown during the Battle of Hogwarts, thereby saving the young woman's life and even preventing her from getting afflicted by the curse.

On the other hand, he held entirely different opinions about Percy – the man who had turned his back on his family and become the ministry's bootlicker. He did not apologize to his family until it was almost too late. The war had at least brought him back to his family. However, it was a shame that he died before he could properly spend any time with them.

He knew Molly and Arthur would be heartbroken if they got to know just what their dear daughter had been up to, and he did not want them to go through that. They had already lost enough to the war.

However, there was another reason why he had kept Ginny out, and he smirked as he stared at the golden lightning bolt glowing at the back of his wrist.

The seventh child of the family, and the only female. There was no way he was letting the bitch go so easily. She had no idea what he had done when he had taken her a few days ago in his office, and he would make sure she never knew either. Ignorance was truly bliss, and by the looks of things, she was pretty happy being ignorant. He was happy to let her think he was going to use her as his personal whore – which he fully intended to do – but his reasons were nothing shallow like that.

Sexual magic was something he had taken a particular interest in after everything had been said and done, and he knew the significance of the magical numbers Ginny represented. She would remain under his thumb, and the orgasms he would bring her would be the payment for all her services.

It wasn't as if he cared what happened to her as long as he got what he wanted from her.

Putting those thoughts out of his mind, he began working on the mountain of paperwork that required his signature. Authorization for auror patrols, assignment of squadrons, promotion applications, and confirmation of trial dates for various cases. It was all trivial stuff and something he had gotten bored with. Yet, the position he held kept him abreast of everything happening around Magical Britain without the additional paperwork that the post of Minister came with.

Once he was done with the official paperwork, he flicked his wand and watched as they floated out of his office. That left only one little chore for him to take care of, and with a sigh, Harry flicked his wand, pulling out the stack of letters he had received in the past week.

There were both official and personal letters in the drawer, and Harry looked them over. Most were trivial – invitations for various events or addressing some group across Britain. Almost all of those were usually discarded, with a formal letter of apology that he would not be able to make it. A few, however, he did attend, particularly the ones he received from Hogwarts.

McGonagall was asking him to visit for a session in front of the students, and Harry put that letter aside. He would reply to her when he was done with the others.

Another letter he received was an official communication from the International Confederation of Wizards, informing him that the next meeting would be held in Paris on the 21st of the next month.

It was the final letter that gave him pause. There was nothing but his name written on the envelope, but what made him stare at it was the handwriting. He would recognize it anywhere.

He had not had a conversation with Ron and Hermione since the night of the battle, even though the pair tried a lot to get in contact with him. He never entertained the thought though, not after what they did.

Try as he might, he could not help but recall how it all went south during their hunt for Horcruxes.

It had been a few months since he had begun torturing himself on a nightly basis. Sleep eluded him, and every night on repeat, he would pull up the Marauders' Map and stare at the dots rutting away in different parts of the castle. The mood had started to worsen in their tent. Ron had been becoming more and more restless as days passed by, and Hermione was also at her wit's end over their lack of progress.

All three of them spent their days in the grim atmosphere that had taken over the Forest of Dean. They used to take turns wearing the locket, taking care not to lose it. It did not help that the Horcrux could also sense their despair and it exacerbated the emotions they had been feeling.

Every night, Harry lay awake, watching Ginny fornicating with Zabini, and every so often, he could hear the muffled moans and whimpers from the other side of the tent.

It had begun a few days ago. Ron and Hermione had finally given in to what had been obvious to him for a while. However, even though a part of him was happy for his friends, he could not help feeling a tad resentful that they had found each other in these trying times while the one he thought he loved had no qualms about fucking who was nothing more than an enemy.

He knew it was not non-consensual. The way those footsteps used to arrange together was enough to make him conclude that Ginny was very eager to do it.

Things were not any different that evening either. They had just moved places, and he had seen the way Ron and Hermione had been eyeing each other all day long. Being the third wheel that he was, he had walked out of the tent, telling them he would look for sustenance.

Ron, having grown up with three square meals a day courtesy of his mother, had been particularly irritable for so long. It came as no surprise to Harry to see him look so ecstatic at the prospect of having something good to eat, was eager for him to leave. Harry expected Hermione to say that she would accompany him, so he was quite surprised when she simply agreed for him to go alone.

It was not hard to deduce just why. With him present all day and night, they had to keep it all under wraps. He was sure they didn't even know he was well aware of what they had been doing every night. After all, no one had either talked about it or given any indication that something was different, even Ron, which was a surprise for him considering how inconspicuous the boy truly was.

Harry did not ponder much upon any of it though. They were free to find the relief they all needed in each other. He just wished he could have some way of doing it too. He was suffocating daily, voluntarily feeding himself the bitter poison of betrayal every night, without any avenue to let any of his frustrations out. It felt unfair, but there was nothing he could do.

Wrapping his Invisibility Cloak around himself, he left the tent toward where Hermione had told him the nearest town was, for food, and some fresh air.

However, he had to return empty-handed when he felt the chill of Dementors the moment he reached the town. He had tried to cast the Patronus, but to his shock, he found he could not.

Ron and Hermione were not happy when he returned. In the case of the former, it was because of the lack of food, and the latter at his failure to conjure the charm he had taught to scores of students in their fifth year.

The mood started to plummet even more since that day, and it was only a week later when they managed to procure a decent meal from a small village that was thankfully free from any hostiles.

They started to ponder upon Horcruxes and their locations, and Harry had to keep his temper under check whenever Hermione stopped him from saying Voldemort's name, even though she was in the right, or Ron showed his disinterest in the topic. His constant yawns and groans slowly started grating on his nerves.

The dismissive attitude of Hermione whenever he theorized about a particular object that could be a Horcrux and where it might be located, and the arguments that ensued therefrom only exacerbated their irritation. She seemed to believe she was always in the right and would dismiss his theories based on logic only she could think of, conveniently forgetting that he knew how Voldemort's mind worked.

It seemed the events of their past years, particularly the one with Malfoy in their sixth year had taught her no lesson.

A few more weeks passed, and there had been no progress. His Patronus never worked, and they had to make do with scraps. They had discovered no way to destroy a Horcrux without resorting to Fiendfyre or the killing curse, and they had no idea what or where the other Horcruxes might be. Well, Harry did, but Hermione would always dismiss his points by thinking of something to refute it. It was frustrating.

Harry began to suspect that Ron and Hermione had started to talk behind his back. He could see them huddled close together, whispering to each other, and they would always stop when they either heard or spotted him coming closer. Ron had never hidden his bad mood, and he suspected slowly Hermione had also started feeling the same.

He tried his best to keep those thoughts out of his mind. His nightly tortures over the map were enough. He did not need to add more to his torment.

A few more weeks passed. The irritation levels rose, and so did the morose mood that permeated the trio. Ron and Hermione had started keeping to themselves, leaving him alone on the other side of the tent with nothing but a Horcrux for company. He refused to let it out of sight, no matter how much Hermione told him that they should take turns wearing it. He denied her every time, knowing how heinous its effects could be on them if they wore it.

Everything came to rear its head one evening, changing their lives forever.

It was rainy, and they were inside the tent, staring at the thundering sky. They had just discovered that the sword of Gryffindor could destroy the Horcrux since it was goblin-forged and the blade was imbued with Basilisk venom. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black told them how the redhead girl had almost been caught trying to steal it.

Finally, they had a lead, but only moments later, Ron started to act up, and Harry's already irritable mood took the front seat.

"Well, you've obviously got a problem. Spit it out, will you?"

Glaring, Ron swung his leg off the bed and stood up.

"Okay then, don't expect me to jump around in joy that we've got another bloody thing to find. Just add it to the long list of things you have no fucking clue about!"

Enraged, Harry shot to his feet as well.

"No fucking clue? The hell are you talking about, Ron?"

"It's not as if we're having a nice and dandy time here. Eating scraps, freezing our asses off in this bloody rain… I thought after all this time, we'd have at least something to show for it!"

"You knew what you signed up for," Harry replied.

"Yeah, I did! At least I thought so!"

"You thought so, huh?" Harry let out a mirthless chuckle. "What part confused you then, huh? Did you think we'd be living in five-star hotels, enjoying a nice, warm bath every night and feasting on lavish buffets every night? That we'd find and destroy a Horcrux every other day, all the while lounging in a private pool? That you'd be back to Mummy for Christmas?"

Anger was his friend at the moment, and like a bitch, it was Ron's as well.

"We thought you'd have a bloody clue what you were doing!" The redhead exploded, spittle flying around in a way that oddly reminded Harry of whenever Vernon used to get enraged. "We thought Dumbledore told you something! Anything! We didn't expect you to be so bloody clueless and run off on this blind chase without any care!"

Harry did not respond. He simply stared at heaving Ron for a few seconds before he looked over at Hermione.

"We?" He simply asked. Hermione looked away. That was enough of an answer for Harry, who scoffed. "I see how it is then. I'm sorry for letting you two down. I've been straight with you from the start. There is nothing I hid from you. I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And if you haven't noticed yet, we've found a Horcrux!"

"Fat load of shit is what it's worth!" Ron retorted with a snarl. "How close are you to destroying even one, let alone finding more? None! That's how!"

There was a moment of terse silence and all the while, Harry kept staring at Hermione, who pointedly avoided his eyes. Sneering, he said, "I see. So that's what those whisperings were all about. That's what you two have been talking about behind my back."

For the first time, Hermione looked at him and the guilty look in her eyes was unmissable. However, what he could also see in her expression was her usual sense of self-righteousness – something he had slowly come to hate ever since this entire affair began.

The rain had intensified as if emboldened by the vehemence of their argument, and it was now pounding the tent.

Sneering, Harry looked at them, "Why are you two still here then? Go home!"

Ron was not one to back down.

"Maybe I will!" He shouted, taking a furious step toward Harry who held his ground. "You heard what that bloody portrait said, didn't you? They almost caught my sister trying to steal the sword! They would've sent her to the Forbidden Forest if she'd been caught! Or even the Cruciatus! But you don't give a fuck about her, do you? What is a little bit of Cruciatus for the great Harry Potter — the slayer of Basilisks and Dementors!"

It was as if someone had thrown a barrel of cold water over Harry. He stood there, still as a statue at the mention of Ginny.

Ron continued without missing a beat, "And that's not to mention what they'd have done to my family if they found her! But you couldn't give a toss about them, can you? After all, your parents are long dead!"

For the first time, Hermione glared at Ron, believing he had gone too far with his last remarks. However, her eyes widened when she heard what Harry said.

"Fuck your sister."

Shocked, both Ron and Hermione stared at Harry who looked up with a feral look in his eyes. Months of self-inflicted torment had finally run its course, and it wanted out. Right now.

"What did you just say?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Fuck your whore of a sister!" Harry hissed, glaring. "She can rot in hell and I won't give a flying fuck about it."

A loud smack rang around the tent over the vehement roar of rain as Hermione's palm collided with Harry's cheek.

"How dare you say something like that!" She cried out, moving for another slap when she was suddenly banished to the other end of the tent. Ron, eyes wide in shock at what Harry had said and done, could only stare as Hermione collided with one of the beds and fell over, dazed.

"You asshole!" He cried out, but before he could even move, he found Harry's wand pointed right between his eyes.

The two men glared at each other with utter revulsion and Harry hissed, "Fuck off to your mother's tender care, both of you. And don't you dare come near me again, or you won't like the consequences."

Gulping, Ron stared at the tip of Harry's wand for a few seconds before he sneered. Turning around, he rushed over to Hermione and helped her up.

"You okay?" Ron asked worriedly. Hermione nodded and winced.

"Just a bruise, I think," she replied.

Harry watched them disdainfully as they stood back up before glaring at him.

"You've changed, Harry. Both of us have seen it. And it's not for the better. But after what you just did… Dumbledore would be disappointed in you."

"I told you two to fuck off," Harry replied unfazed, his wand trained on them. Hermione gave him her usual disappointed stare which Harry promptly ignored and watched as they gathered whatever meagre belongings they had and walked out of the tent. The rain had dissipated some time ago.

A few seconds later, there was the telltale sound of apparition outside the tent, and only then did Harry lower his wand. He walked over to his part of the tent and stared hatefully at the Horcrux perched on the table.

Mustering his hatred had never been easier, and there was a loud wail of sheer evilness as his killing curse struck the locket right in the middle.

Harry shook his head and banished those thoughts from what felt like a lifetime ago. That had been the last time he had had a conversation with the pair. The next time they met, it was already in the heat of the battle. Neither party approached the other in the aftermath of it, and Harry found it oddly amusing that the reason that encounter had escalated so much — one Ginny Weasley — had never been in any danger in the first place. Instead, the redhead who Phineas Nigellus Black had told them about, the one who had tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor, was Susan Bones.

Harry came to know about it when a small group of those who had fought in the Battle mehad met in The Three Broomsticks after the war ended and were exchanging stories.

Neville, Luna, and Susan had tried to steal the sword, intent on giving it to Harry after they had heard from Ginny how Dumbledore had left it to him in his will and knowing that it must be for an important purpose.

Knowing what he knew about Ginny now, it was easy to believe that she would've never put herself in the position to get caught by the Death Eaters who ran around Hogwarts.

Recalling that he had a letter to read, he tore the envelope and pulled the parchment out of it. He discarded the envelope and opened the letter.

A minute later, he put the letter down on his desk and started drumming his fingers over it.

Hermione's letter was simple. She was requesting him for a meeting to discuss something important.

Just because Harry had cut ties off with Ron and Hermione did not mean he had stopped keeping tabs on them. After all, one never knew when something might come in handy. He had a little hunch about what this important thing that she wanted to discuss with him could be.

He wondered whether he should agree to meet her. It was not as if he owed her or Ron anything, and he could simply ignore the letter. He knew he won't feel anything about it either.

However, there was no harm in a little meeting either. He could just hear her out and decide what to do based on what happened.

He pondered upon the matter for a few more minutes and with a sigh, he touched the rune on his desk.

An old lady approaching her seventies walked in with a gentle smile on her face.

"You asked for me, Director?"

"How many times have I asked you to call me by my name, Martha?"

Martha Abbott chuckled and gave him a grandmotherly smile.

"I'll call you that once I retire. As long as I'm working, you are my boss, and as such, Director to me."

Sighing, Harry nodded before he gave the kind woman a loving smile. Madam Abbott had been his secretary for the entire time he had been the Director of the DMLE, having assumed the role when Amelia Bones became the Director. She had endured the dark years in the ministry under Voldemort's rule and was one hardened woman. The Bones and Abbott families have been close for decades, and it was Amelia Bones who had hired her. Now approaching the age of retirement, the woman was still as steadfast and capable as she had been in her youth.

Harry respected her a lot, and he could see how much she had come to adore him as well. He had broached the subject of retirement a few times, but whenever he did, she had the same reply.

'I would retire once I turn seventy. Not a day earlier.'

Her seventieth birthday was next week, and smiling, Harry replied, "Well, only one week to go then."

Martha smiled before asking how she could help him. Harry slid forward the official letters.

"Please add these to my calendar. Also, could you clear tomorrow evening from my schedule? There is a personal business I need to attend."

Martha nodded and took the letters with her.

Leaning back on his chair, Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling that showed the view outside. He'd hear whatever Hermione had to say. However, she had another thing coming if she expected him to sort things out for her just like that out of the goodness of his heart.

He remembered how she had told him that he had changed, and not for the better. Well, he had no qualms in showing her just how much.

His help had a price, and he wondered whether she would be ready to pay it.

TBC.

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