Chapter 18

Harry stepped into the fireplace and spoke loudly and clearly. "Greengrass Manor."

A disorienting flash of green flame and he stepped out into a modest lobby, nowhere near as luxurious as Malfoy Manor and certainly nothing like the Delacour's chateau. Still, it had clearly had a lot of love put into it. Harry noticed with appreciation that the circular patterns in the staircase railings were rotating, drawing and undrawing themselves in a hypnotic fashion.

"My father was a great carpenter. He built some of the stairs in the Ministry too." Peter announced himself.

"Lord Greengrass." Harry bowed. "Thank you for inviting me to your home."

"Lord Potter." Peter bowed back. "I think, when you saved my family and my home, you earned the right to call me Peter." He grinned.

"Merlin forbid we skip pureblood formalities." Harry joked. His wife Cynthia giggled as she descended the stairs, looking stunning in a demure black gown that covered her from head to toe. A shining diamond hung from her neck, ludicrously large. "Lady Greengrass, you look stunning. I can see where Daphne gets her beauty from."

She just rolled her eyes. "Just like your father. Cynthia, please."

"You knew my father?" Harry exclaimed.

"All the girls knew your father, Harry. Thankfully, Peter stepped in to protect me from his wayward advances, before your mother gave in to his persistence and saved us all from his incorrigible charm."

"I'd love to hear more about them." Harry said enthusiastically.

"And I'd love to share them." Cynthia paused to let him kiss her cheeks and then patted him on the shoulder. "No need to stand on ceremony here, Harry. You saved my daughters, the Greengrasses will always be a friend to the Potters from now on."

Harry looked at her with surprise, and then at Peter, who only nodded. That was a serious declaration, made very casually.

"I'm grateful." He said, a little choked up. For a long time, he'd felt like the Potters stood alone.

Cynthia smiled at him and called up the stairs. "Girls! Our guest is here!"

A scampering of feet and Astoria had bounded down the stairs, two at a time, a big grin on her face. "Harry!" She hugged him around the waist. Harry ruffled her hair affectionately. Whenever he felt guilty about his scheme to conquer hundreds of women, he reminded himself of the good things he'd done to, like saving Astoria from those Death Eater brutes.

"Hey, little one."

She pouted.

"I'm not little, I'm in my second year."

"Second year, already? Have you got a boyfriend yet?" He teased. She was wearing a cute, formal white dress, one that he suspected her mother had made her wear for the formal dinner.

"I should hope not." Peter declared.

"Daphne scares off all the boys that come near me." Astoria crossed her arms, frowning.

"She is pretty scary." Harry admitted.

"I'm glad to know something scares you, Potter." A voice declared from the top of the stairs, and Harry looked up to see a nervous looking Daphne, wearing a silky forest green dress with thin strips over her bare shoulders, the dress just showing off the top of her breasts and dropping to her knees. It was appropriate and appropriately sexy.

"You look gorgeous, Daphne, just like your mother." Harry said, reaching out his hand for her to take as she descended the stairs, and pressing a kiss to it.

"Thank you, Harry." Daphne favored him with an anxious smile, but the message was in her eyes: Please don't fuck with me, not in front of my parents.

Harry responded with a wink, making her face pale.

"He's trouble, isn't he?" Cynthia laughed as she guided him into the kitchen.

Daphne was left on the bottom stair, sighing as she felt Harry's magic ensconce her, his scent, his power. It was unmistakably, especially as she'd ingested so much of his seed, had it coat her skin, had lapped and bobbed on his cock as he fucked her face. She felt her face flush red - she couldn't afford to bring those memories back. To her eternal shame and humiliation, even the memories soaked her panties. "You don't know the half of it." She mumbled.

***

"So, Harry, what are your plans? What are you going to do in the Wizengamot once you have Bones installed as Minister?" Cynthia asked.

Harry smiled at Cynthia, sat opposite from, sipping from his wine glass with one hand, his other hand resting on Daphne's knee beside him. She sat stiffly, unable to say anything about their revered guest, the one she'd made that awful deal with.

"I have three main objectives. Most importantly, that's winning the war. We can't allow Voldemort to grow in power, to continue to attack Sacred families like you and the Macmillans."

"How do you do that?" Astoria asked, not looking up as she attacked her Hogsmeade Mess dessert - a mash-up of candied pumpkin bits, whipped cream and crumbled up meringue.

"It'll be a race against Voldemort as to who can make the quickest, and the greatest, overtures to the various wizarding creatures. Sirens, mermaids, veela, trolls, giants, vampires, werewolves - whoever can recruit them the most will have the greatest army. So, we need to pass equality laws in the Wizengamot so they can see they have the best chance of life with a functioning society and a Ministry, not under Voldemort's reign."

Peter wrinkled his nose as he swirled his glass. "That won't be an easy task. The dark hate giving rights to any creatures."

Harry nodded. "It will, but it has to be done. With your help, we may well have enough votes to swing it."

"You'll have them." Peter promised. "I'll see if I can swing some of my allies, or former allies, too."

"Thank you. The second objective is rebuilding my family. I need resources to fight Voldemort economically, in property ownership, in business revenue, in Ministry bribes, in renting mercenaries, making donations to foreign governments to lead a hand or look the other way. I'll need to act in a way that hasn't been seen for a few decades - I need to marry well, using all of the Houses I own, I'll need mistresses, Muggle 'researchers', all so I can have enough eyes, enough brains, even enough wands, to protect my interests. The Potter name will need to be huge, because nobody understands just how much of a strangehold Tom's Death Eaters held on the economy. I have to take it over to dismantle it."

Daphne gasped, both at his words and the fact that his hand had slid her dress upwards and slipped underneath it, so his thumb was rubbing her inner thigh in a circular motion, his warm touch making her squirm.

Peter stroked his chin. "You're right in saying that the Death Eaters control a lot more than people understand, particularly in the more dirty businesses. Drugs, illegal magical items, alchemy ingredients for potions and rituals, that's all them. Even a lot of the property in Knockturn and Diagon Alley is held by Malfoy."

Harry hid his smirk - people were yet to realise Lucius Malfoy was dead and everything he once held dear was now Harry's. His thumb inched closer to Daphne's panties, making her tremble.

"Sorry, Cynthia, I didn't mean to be crass." Harry apologized.

Cynthia laughed. "There's nothing crass about multiple wives or mistresses, Harry. My father had a mistress, and she was always kind to me, even when my own mother wasn't. It's not a fate I would want for my own daughters, but for the lesser families or less fortunate woman, it's a kind way to keep them in magical society and under a good roof."

Peter nodded. "Muggle, ahem, researchers are less respectable, of course, but we still understand the need for it. They do struggle to get proper jobs, and you'll need a lot of help if you're really creating what sounds like an empire."

"Daddy has a Muggle researcher, don't you Daddy?" Astoria smirked evilly at her father.

"Well, yes, but not like that," Peter stammered. "Cynthia decided we should fund her and take her under the Greengrass banner to do potions research, because she's very intelligent. I don't-"

"Certainly not." Cythia smirked. "Perhaps for your birthday, dear."

"Mother!" Astoria squealed, but she was laughing.

Harry shook his head, always amazed at the way dismissive attitude with which Muggleborns were faced - it was taken for granted that they couldn't, wouldn't, get proper jobs, and it was almost like fucking them wouldn't even be cheating for a pureblood lord, since they weren't real witches. Astoria and Daphne seemed completely unperturbed that their mother was offering her husband a Muggleborn witch for his birthday.

And yet, they seemed to respect Lily Potter markedly, as Cynthia spoke of her with great affection from their Hogwarts days. It seemed that James had somehow legitimized her by marrying her - like she became a pureblood by marriage.

Harry slipped his hand up over Daphne's panties, amused at how wet they were. She really was a submissive little slut. He explored their lace and trim, trying to get a picture of them using just his fingers, and began massaging her clit through her panties.

Daphne let out a little gasp.

"Not if the thought bothers you, Daphne." Peter frowned, misreading her gasp.

"No, not at all, Father. She's just a Muggleborn." Daphne said in an odd tone, shaking and holding on the table firmly as Harry's roaming fingers slipped under her panties. She squirmed, accidentally pushing back against the table, which pushed her chair back a little to give him greater access, his fingers entering her fully. She really was a greedy little slut, she thought, flushed at the thought. She had no choice, she told herself, if she wanted the Boy Who Lived's protection, she had to let him finger fuck her in front of parents and her little sister.

"Quite right." Cynthia said. "Our Daphne is an open-minded, well-raised witch, Harry." Cynthia giggled, a little drunk. "She'd make a good wife for you."

"Mother!" Daphne cried out in protest, even as she bit her lip, hoping nobody could hear the squelch of her wet pussy under the table.

"She is a lovely girl and so generous." Harry agreed, smirking at Daphne as he pumped her pussy with one long finger, his thumb rubbing her clit. "And I can tell, she has all the qualities to make a great wife. But unfortunately, I'm not in a position to choose a wife based on how kind or beautiful they are. It is, sadly, more about politics."

"Of course." Peter said hurriedly. "Cynthia was only teasing." He frowned at his wife. "We're grateful to count the Potter clan amongst our allies as it is."

"What's the third thing, Harry?" Astoria jumped in to break up the awkward moment.

"The third objective is to reach out to foreign countries, allies and neutrals, to establish bonds with the key players. If the war goes international, or even before it spreads, if we can get allies in advance, that will help win the war. Financial bonds, marriage or mistress bonds, clan allies, I'm looking for it all. I already spent last weekend at a prominent soiree in France."

"Really?" Peter looked interested. "You might marry a French girl, even, just to get a foot in the door, as it were?"

Harry nodded. "Maybe. It would be a shame, as the English roses here are so wonderful." Harry added a second finger, making Daphne shudder.

"Are you feeling okay, Daphne? You're looking a little red." Cynthia remarked.

"Yes!" Daphne squealed as she came on his fingers, squirting her juices onto his fingers, her toes curling, feet lifting off the floor.

"Alright, no need to shout."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" She mumbled, her legs still shaking, face flushed red in humiliation, unable to look anywhere near Harry's smirking face.

"Mmm, delicious meal Cynthia, I can't help but lick my fingers." Harry slowly lapped up his fingers, wet with Daphne's juices.

"Thank you, Harry." Cynthia beamed. "Of course, the elves did most of it, but I did the meat!"

Harry patted Daphne's pussy in a two-tone rhythm. Good girl, it felt like he was saying. Daphne glowered at him, feeling helpless. How could he come into her home, sit at her table, talk to her parents and have the gall to finger her the whole time? The sheer disrespect. Even now, he casually answered a question from Astoria, all the while his finger absently traced her sopping lips. He wasn't even trying to get her off again, he was just playing with her because he could, because he knew there was nothing she could do about it. Saving them from the Dark Lord had tied their fates inexorably to the Potter clan, and Daphne's future to his.

"She's not this odd, usually." Astoria giggled, and Daphne realised she'd spaced out again, missing a question.

"It's been a trying month for everyone, don't worry." Harry deflected for her.

"Sorry." Daphne said automatically, not sure what she'd missed.

"We were proposing a toast, Daphne," Peter said, frowning. "To a new partnership between House Potter and House Greengrass, and to a new future as allies." He held up his glass, the table joining him.

"House Potter will protect and fund your house, and will come to your aid whenever your members are in trouble." Harry declared, his magic swimming in the area, so powerful Daphne could barely breathe. The paintings on the wall were vibrating.

"House Greengrass will provide full access to our apothecary resources, our potions and ingredients. In addition, our votes in the Wizengamot are yours to control, for a period of one year. We will aid you in your war - I offer myself as your wartime advisor, while my wife can consult on House Potter finances, if requested. I will also offer my wand in battle, if requested."

"Father!" Daphne gasped, stunned. He had tied the whole House to House Potter, sink or sail.

"Quiet, Daphne." Peter growled.

Harry's and Peter's magic shook the very table, strands of light coalescing into the air, above their hands.

"So mote it be."

"So mote it be."

The two men shook hands, blinking at the sudden burst of light. Daphne bit her lip, feeling dizzy. An alliance of Houses.

"Thank you, Peter, Cynthia." Harry dipped his head. "I'm honored."

"The honor is ours, Harry." Peter said. "Daphne, Astoria, will you leave us?"

"Father?" Daphne said in confusion, squirming her skirt down as Harry's fingers finally left her alone.

"Now, Daphne." Peter said firmly.

"Yes, Father." The two girls left the table, Astoria giggling giddily as she felt the mass of magic in the air. Even Daphne had to take some deep breaths, struggling to reconcile the giddiness from the magic overload with the anxiety she had. Why had her Father asked them to leave the room?

"Peter?" Harry questioned once the door was shut.

"We need to talk about your voting bloc. Legislation might be your best way to fight this war, but there's a lot of ground to make up."

Harry nodded slowly. "I've got Potter and Black votes. And, as my ally by magic, I feel you should know that I have the Malfoy vote, too."

They sat there, stunned into silence. "How in Merlin's curly white beard did you manage that?" Peter clapped the table.

"Not the nice diplomatic way, if that's what you mean. The story will come out soon enough, but Narcissa and I have an agreement."

"And the Draco boy?"

Harry shrugged. "We'll see if we can come to an agreement. If not…" He trailed off.

Peter nodded approvingly. "Quite right. You'll need that ruthless streak if we want to win this war."

Cynthia clenched her jaw tight. "I want them all dead, for what they dared to try against my family."

Peter laughed, suddenly looking happier. "Well, that makes me feel a lot better about being on the right side of this war. That is just the Malfoy vote though, none of the Malfoy allies?"

"Right. The allies are mostly Death Eaters, so we're not getting Malfoy's usual voting bloc, just the seat vote."

"Well, that ties neatly into what we wanted to discuss." Peter took Cynthia's hand in his and squeezed it. "There is a significant bloc in the Dark that are not Death Eater friendly, but don't align with Dumbledore's or the Ministry's ideals. We seek lesser financial regulation, a preservation of property rights, upholding the Pureblood traditions, upholding the standards for wizards and witches." Peter took a big gulp of wine. "Just the other day, the Wizengamot held a vote to force Houses to register all Muggleborn researchers with the Ministry, 'in order to allow the Ministry to investigate and restrict potential rights abuses'. It barely failed the motion! The sheer gall!" Peter spluttered.

"Quite right, Peter." Cynthia leaned at her husband's side, smiling as his arm came around her. "Bones was trying to pass a vote allowing witches to divorce their husbands and receive a stipend from his House for the rest of their lives. Isn't that laughable? Morgana would be rolling in her grave. These modernists are forgetting the natural order, the traditions of witches standing behind the wizard, of supporting and supplementing."

Harry thought it best not to mention how things worked in the Muggle world.

"She does have some radical ideas." Harry said uncomfortably. "But the alternative was-"

"Oh, you're not wrong, Harry." Cynthia waved him off. "Cartwright was a Death Eater in the making, if he isn't already. And I'm sure she's already trying to marry you off to that big-breasted niece of hers."

"Susan-" Harry started.

"But," Peter took over. "There's a big bloc that trusts the Greengrass name,"

"That trusts Peter, he means." Cynthia said proudly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Well, yes. They trust me to represent their ideals. And with your help and some key signs from your point, they'll follow your votes too."

Harry frowned. "Why would they trust me?"

Peter took a deep breath. "If you married Daphne, you'd become an honorary Greengrass. With Daphne on your arm at the galas and the balls, in the papers, they'd feel happy that their interests were being represented by one of the most powerful political figures in the country."

"Peter, I'm flattered, really, but-"

"Wait, wait. Obviously, with your financial support and investment in House Greengrass, we would not ask for a dowry. But, in order to tie our houses even closer together, in order to ensure that our ideals have a sizable voting bloc with the Dark, to make sure the Dark Lord no longer stains our name and our ideals with his corruption, we would be willing to marry both Daphne and Astoria to you."

Harry could feel his eyes widen. "Astoria? But she's so young."

"Well, of course you'd wouldn't marry for four years, until she's sixteen, and of course, you wouldn't have any contact with her until she's of a suitable age, but she would become your second sister-wife, not a primary wife."

A sister wife. That was a rare concept, Harry thought. It was usually done when a wizard married an orphaned older sister, taking the younger sister as a charity, so she wasn't left without a family. The younger sister would still be Lady Potter, as an example, but wouldn't have the same responsibilities in terms of looking over the finances, managing the household, organizing social balls and dinners. Instead, they might be used more for sex relief and childcare. They wouldn't have the same power or prestige as the primary wife, but they might well be happier, especially to be with their older sister.

"Would the girls be happy with that?" Harry wondered.

"Daphne likes you." Cynthia noted. "She was red and blushing the whole meal. And of course, you're the knight in shining armor who rescued Astoria, so she adores you. We've brought them both up in the old ways, to respect and submit to their husbands. They'll be good wives for you."

"You're betting a lot on me." Harry noted. In his mind, though, he understood why. Voldemort had made a huge tactical mistake by trying to eliminate the Greengrasses. He'd been trying to force the other Neutral houses into joining him, by showing what happened when they didn't. Instead, by failing to kill them, he'd forced them to join his greatest opponents.

Now, the Greengrasses had to bet everything, and by saving them personally, Harry had created an avenue in which they could bet on him, and not on Dumbledore.

"We trust you." Peter said assuredly. "You're a good man, a powerful Wizard. We believe you're going to change the world. Marrying both of our daughters would show the world how you intend to change it."

"You're aware I represent two Houses, right? Potter and Black."

"And I'm also aware that you'd be looking to balance the wives, to get the most votes out of each marriage. We'd be happier, of course, to make Daphne and Astoria both Lady Potter, because of the prestige of the name, but Lady Black is still a very powerful name, with a lot more connection and emotion to the Dark, because of that family's history."

Harry took a sip from his wine. "You've given me a lot to think about."

Peter laughed. "I'm sure. Regardless, we," He brought his wife's hand to his lips and kissed it. "We want you to know that you have our full support. Without marriage, obviously there are things we can't give, simply because of the family magic involved, like the family spells, the tomes, but we are fully behind House Potter."

"Thank you." Harry smiled, touched. "That means a lot. Thank you both."

Cynthia reached forward, clasping his hand. "Thank you, Harry. You gave us hope. You saved my girls. We'll never forget." Her eyes shined, her throat drying. "Never, ever."

***

Hannah held her breath, praying that she'd go unnoticed, pressing herself as close to the wall as she could.

"Any sign, Bridgewater?"

"Nothing."

"Time to call it, then. Let's get to bed."

The two Prefects cleared off, leaving Hannah to let out a deep sigh. She felt the cold stone of Hogwarts against her bare feet as she tried to nip back to the safety of the Hufflepuff Common Room, dodging the bright areas of moonlight that shined through the Hogwarts stained glass windows. Periodically, she stopped and checked her map of Filch's most common patrols, one she'd bought off a Ravenclaw sixth year. The nasty boy had asked in trade for a flash of her tits, but had settled for five galleons, after Hannah had threatened to smear his name with every Hufflepuff girl from first year to seventh. Her tits belonged to Harry.

She tumbled through the Hufflepuff barrel passageway and sneaked up the stairs, diving into her bed and then firing every locking charm she knew at the curtains around her bed. Safely under her covers, she sighed in relief, taking several breaths to try and rid herself of the adrenaline.

Then, she lifted up her treasure, robbed from the Restricted Section. Mad Maloney's Quick and Dirty Guide to the Darkest of Magicks. Susan had told her how her Auntie was constantly confiscating the book from criminals, since the book was the best primer on how to get started with dark magic, from curses to nasty charms. This book, Amelia had told Susan, was the slippery slope into dark magic.

Hannah leafed it open, feeling the hair on her arms standing up. She was making progress, she thought. The cucumber under her pillow, the biggest one she could, had lipstick marks all over it - not quite to the bottom yet, but more than halfway. She didn't have much money, but she'd ordered some slutty crotchless panties. She'd dug up some of her old Hogwarts uniforms, with a skirt so short it showed her pussy everytime she walked, and a blouse that didn't even reach her belly button.

This book though, would make her powerful. Darling Harry, her love, was just so handsome and so manly, that he'd eventually have all the tits and pussy and ass that he wanted, but what he really wanted was power. If Hannah could make herself powerful, could fight alongside him, could kill for him, could defend him, then he'd always need her, want her, would never throw her away.

She stopped herself suddenly, feeling her hand about to creep into her panties, feeling that desire to rub herself to a glorious climax, like she did every time she thought about her boyfriend, her Master. But love was about doing what he wanted, what he needed, not about her sordid desires.

So, with a smile, she used both hands to hold the book up, resisting the urge to squirm her thighs together.

"Maybe once I've finished the first three chapters." She murmured to herself, giggling to herself.

***

Narcissa steeled herself as she accepted the Floo call, brushing some lint away from her designer dress. She'd worn one of her trophy wife dresses, one she'd bought to accompany Harry when she was finally able to announce herself as one of his mistresses. It wasn't slutty, but it began mid-shoulder and had a downward-arrow cut out to display as much of her cleavage as possible, tits almost bursting out, and the dress only reached mid-thigh. A pureblood wife, a proper Lady, would never wear this - but a Mistress could. Mistresses were for sex and pleasure, and had to dress to shown they were owned.

Apolline appeared out of the green flame, stepping out with a polite smile. Narcissa controlled her breathing. She was stunning, but of course. A body built for sex, she looked like every man's dream in a slightly sheer white blouse and short black pencil skirt, the slutty French secretary. She had those pouty red lips, a gorgeous face, and Narcissa was disgusted to notice, a similar shade of long blonde hair to herself. Narcissa's was platinum blonde, wavy and styled, more blonde than Apolline's silvery ice-blond locks. But Harry, bless him, was too much of a man to really notice a difference.

He'd just see a newer blonde sex-doll and throw her away...No, Narcissa told herself. Harry loved her. And she loved him.

"Welcome to my home." Narcissa greeted, a little icily.

"Thank you. I thought we should meet, since 'Arry has asked us to work together." Apolline said delicately, looking around at her surroundings. "You have a lovely home."

"Yes, Harry seems to enjoy it." She jabbed. "He likes the luxury, after the awful childhood he had."

"His life is still a mystery to me, a little. His memories are yet to, ah, how do you say? Filter? Filter through properly as he's only had me once, although whether you can call it once when it lasts for so many hours, I do not know." Apolline admitted. She had a throaty, sultry voice, Narcissa could admit. She clutched her heart, looking upset at the mention of his childhood. "I wish I could change his past, but I think I could change his future at my more...palatial chateau."

Narcissa smiled thinly. This bitch. "Harry likes his pleasures closer to home."

Apolline noticed the folder Narcissa was carrying. "What are you working on?"

"His manor and his holdings. Harry would like to restore his ancestral manor, but it's fallen into disrepair." Narcissa sighed. "I'm trying to get it into a state worthy of him."

"Perhaps I could help you." Apolline said slowly. "I have worked on many homes and helped many of my friends with their interior design."

Narcissa took a deep breath. For Harry, she told herself. "Did Harry...did Harry like your home?"

"He did."

"It has to be very different to a traditional pureblood British manor. Different to this home. Harry wants to be comfortable."

"Rustic, rather than marble." Apolline tapped her long stiletto heel on Narcissa's marble floor.

"Yes."

"I could visit and make some suggestions, and let you take the lead, of course." Apolline offered an olive branch and a small smile.

"That would be nice, thank you." Narcissa laughed, despite herself. "This is awkward, isn't it? Considering what Harry will have us doing, one imagines."

"He'll have us licking his seed from each other's la chatte's, you mean." Apolline smirked.

Narcissa blushed hard at the image. "You Veela really are vulgar."

"Oh, Narcissa," Apolline laughed. "Veela are inherently sexual, but we are still women. And as women, we love with our whole beings. Is there anything you would not do for 'Arry?"

"No." Narcissa smiled at just the thought of him.

"And so we are the same." Apolline nodded. "Come, then, I have a business and a society mind, if that makes sense in your English. 'Arry wants me to help and so I shall. Where shall I start?"

"Well," Narcissa said reluctantly. "Harry does own some French businesses, which I've not been able to contact, since I don't speak French. Maybe you could see why they aren't paying their rent or their dividends, and haven't been since his parents died."

"For 'Arry." Apolline confirmed.

"For Harry." Narcissa smiled tentatively. "And will you tell me where you got your heels?"

"I will."