Chapter 21

The next morning, the mood in the Great Hall was somber as the owls flew in, dropping in unwelcome news. The Daily Prophet's headlines screamed the news of an Azkaban breakout. Harry was surprised it had taken Voldemort this long.

He skimmed the article. Amelia promising Azkaban would become secure once more if she was elected. Fear-mongering about the Dementors being the first to join the Dark Lord's new army. And profiles on each of the escapees.

Including Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville stormed from the Great Hall, his face red.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione's tentative hand found his knee under the table.

He gave her a smile. "We'll put them all back where they belong."

Across the hall, the Slytherin table looked both joyous and taciturn. Draco Malfoy was like a peacock, chest puffed out. Others were solemn — there were consequences to this. Those that the Dark Lord had broke out of Azkaban would have debts, deals, marriage proposals — some would be looking for revenge, money, more.

His eyes caught on Daphne, who was biting her lip as her eyes met his. Her hand was shaking lightly. He nodded to her — he'd have to see what she wanted.

Hermione put some buttered toast on his plate and filled up his glass with pumpkin juice.

"Thank you, Hermione." His hand settled on the bare stretch of skin between her stockings and her skirt's hem, thumb circling gently.

She squeaked.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Ron frowned. "You look odd. Since when do you do that thing to your hair?"

Harry glanced over — her hair was in styled waves, instead of the frizzy and bushy mess it often was.

"I don't look odd—"

"Are you using Sleekeazy, Hermione?" Ginny wondered. "It looks really good."

"Thanks." She blushed. "I like it and I feel better when my hair's under control. I'm just not sleeping much."

"You're fine." Harry bumped shoulders with her. "You probably just need more time in bed." He said innocently.

Hermione blushed even more. They'd spent the previous night cuddling in bed again, with his oldest friend squirming as she tried to sleep with Harry's erection poking her. But she was happier when he spent the nights with her, more assured of his affection. They'd chatted into the early hours of the morning, remembering old stories.

Ron losing a game of chess to an oblivious Neville, and storming off in anger. The time in Potions Neville accidentally made and drank a potion for male virility instead of the Pepper-Up Potion. He'd refused to come out of bed for a whole day, until Professor McGonagall was forced to go up there. She came back down red-faced.

Fred and George had called him Lusty Longbottom for a month.

Eventually, Hermione had almost forgotten she was wearing a new nightie that Harry had bought her and made her wear, so thin and sheer that he could see the curls of her light bush above her netherlips.

And when they woke in the morning, she just moaned as he attacked her neck with his lips, and gently, ever so gently, made her cum with his fingers. She cleaned his wet digits obediently and then she cried again, overwhelmed and confused.

But he'd dressed her once more, showering her in affection until she was giggling and smiling, her eyes dropping constantly to his stiff rod. He'd not let her take care of him — keep her guessing, he thought. Keep her hot and horny and his.

After breakfast, Harry made his excuses and caught up with Daphne before the first class started, pulling her into a closet and throwing locking and privacy charms on the door.

"What's wrong?" He took her in his arms — and she didn't even fight him.

"Mother owled — she'd seen someone around the edge of the wards." She said quickly, hands outstretched like she wasn't sure if she could put them on his chest. "I think it's a Death Eater checking the new wards, maybe trying to dismantle them. And-and you know that wards are weakest when they're new, because they haven't stored the ambient magic—"

"Relax," He soothed, stroking her hair. "It's okay. We'll go together, now."

"Are you sure?" Daphne said nervously, melting into him. "What about class?"

"It's House business." Harry said. "Come on." He pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and threw it onto them.

First, to the Owlery. He gave instructions to Hedwig to meet them at the Greengrass Manor — if they were going to find someone on the edge of their estate, they'd need some eyes in the sky.

Then, he led Daphne to the Chamber of Secrets. Muttering the command to open the tunnel in the bathroom and then to conjure the steps — Tom's memories were more useful for the trivial things, sometimes — he didn't want to fall straight down again.

And then down, seeing it in his memories twice, two different young boys exploring the Chamber. He stopped them when they came upon the dead basilisk, still as grand and magnificent as ever.

Daphne shivered. "Did you really kill it?"

"I did. A shame, really — it was a glorious beast."

"And were you the—"

"No, I wasn't the Heir." He kept his hands on her hip, getting her used to his touch. "That was a soul artifact of Voldemort's that possessed the Weasley girl — I killed the basilisk and him."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you really defeat him every year? Are you actually trained by Dumbledore?"

"How else could I be this powerful?" Harry clicked his fingers and all the torches in the chamber lit up. A cheap parlor trick. "But I have more secrets than the ones Dumbledore taught me. Voldemort doesn't know whether he wants to kill me or recruit me, every time I meet him."

He led her through the chamber, his hand dropping to her ass. Daphne glanced at him but he'd long since overstepped those boundaries.

"I just…" She took a shuddering breath as he led her into one of the secret chambers, a luxurious bedroom with a Floo fireplace roaring already. Dobby kept everything running smoothly.

"I get it." Harry told her. "You want to make sure you're gambling on the right broom-racer."

"I know you're powerful. But power doesn't get you the experience. Knowledge is power and…" She trailed off.

"Voldemort has years of it." Harry agreed. "Come, let's check on your wards."

They Flooed to Greengrass Manor. Cynthia Greengrass waited, tear tracks running down her cheeks, long since rubbed away.

"I'm sorry!" She cried immediately. "Peter's away on business and I didn't know who else to contact, because I don't trust the Aurors and—"

"It's okay." Harry said gently. "You did the right thing. We made a pact, remember?"

She took heavy breaths. "I-yes, you're right. Of course. Thank you, Harry. I don't know what we'd do—"

"And you won't have to. Now, tell me what you saw." He asked.

"I was down by the pond, just checking on the Plimpies, because they shouldn't really be in such shallow water—"

"Mother." Daphne said.

"Sorry," She swallowed. "And I looked up and there was a face in the trees and maybe I imagined it, but maybe I didn't and I'm just so stressed—"

"Cynthia." Harry put his arm on her shoulders. "You're fine. Will you put a pot of tea on for me?"

"Yes, of course—"

"Daphne, let's take a look."

"But—" Cynthia began.

"Relax," Harry held his hands up. "Nothing is going to happen to her. I just want her there so she can identify the face if I find anyone, okay?"

"O-okay."

"Good." His logic was spotty, but she was too stressed to notice. He gave her a sympathetic smile and then pulled Daphne out into the manor grounds, out over the stone ring that encircled the house and then further, over the wet grass in the cold morning, their breaths turning to mist.

The manor grounds were large — the Greengrasses had foregone the traditional clean lawn look. Instead, the grounds were full of dense trees, a forest garden that followed a natural stream down to the edge of the wards, a garden that teemed with hidden delights. A hammock here, wooden benches, garden swings, a cabin filled with nesting ducks.

Daphne showed him the way, holding his hand as she navigated confidently, the angry Slytherin princess becoming the English rose of the country that she'd been hiding, showing her new boyfriend all her childhood spots.

"I used to read my book up in that tree trunk — you see how it forks in two? Until I fell out one time and broke my ankle."

"Your Mother must have been pleased."

Daphne looked back at him — and his breath was caught for a moment, her face so beautiful when she stared at him with her hair partly covering her sparkling eyes, her lips widening in an amused smile. "She grounded me for a month. And look!"

She pointed at a small rotting wooden bridge over the stream. "Tori and I built that one summer. No magic, can you believe it? Father thought we were silly, of course."

"Better with your hands than I thought." Harry teased.

"Don't you start all that again. I've been—" Daphne clapped her mouth shut, face reddening as she bounced away.

"Practicing." Harry finished for her, laughing. "I can't wait to see what you've learned."

She just humphed and strode off, continuing her tour. A shelter by the stream where her Mother taught her potions, teaching her to pick the right mushrooms, teaching her the family trade in alchemy and the use of potion's ingredients.

And then, as the wards neared, she led him off the beaten track, away from the stream.

"Where are we going?"

Daphne glanced back at him. "The stream opens up to a wide clearing where the wards are. If we follow the water, whoever is there will see us easily. This path will take us around."

Through some thick undergrowth, and then crawling under a thorny bush. The thorny bush became a tiny tunnel they had to crawl through, the rosebushes overgrown and rampant.

"I come through here to get to my hidden — well, a private cabin." Daphne told him from ahead, crawling slowly forward. "Mostly to get away from Tori. Careful, it's really tight, and the thorns will tear you up. It's a plant species from Peru — you can't even charm it to be harmless or it attacks."

Harry wasn't complaining — Daphne's skirt had ridden up her thighs as she shimmied through the bush-tunnel. And he had the perfect view up her plaid green skirt, her green panties high-cut and pulled tight between her thick asscheeks. Satin panties, he'd noticed, bisecting her glorious bottom.

He edged closer to her as she stopped to unhook her blouse from a lengthy thorn.

Harry couldn't help himself. He gently folded her skirt higher still, revealing more of that perfect ass, so bizarrely plump for the slim girl. Her bubbly ass-cheeks jiggled as she wriggled, trying to unhook herself from the invasive plant.

"Stupid thing." She grumbled.

Harry was in no hurry. He grabbed her thighs, ignoring her squeal, and slid his way up her creamy skin to her supple ass cheeks, squeezing them firmly.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Daphne growled. "We're looking for the Death Eater, remember?"

But he was lost in his own world, pulling her expensive Slytherin green satin panties up her body so high up that the fabric wedged into her ass-cheeks, into her pussy lips, even, and finally Harry saw his prize. The perfect plump peachy-pink lips of her pussy, peeking out as the panties stretched thin. And above, her pink rosebud winking back at him.

Harry edged forward as Daphne swore at him, trying in vain to crawl ahead. He breathed in her scent — expensive vanilla perfume, the rosebush, her arousal. Her ass was spectacular, truly, toned and yet thick, bubbly like a Brazilian swimwear model, creamy skin glistening with sweat.

His hands groped and squeezed, kneading her fleshy buttocks roughly — Daphne's anger just encouragement to his lustful gaze. Finally Daphne unhooked herself and began to strain forwards, wriggling inch by inch — but Harry had a grip, hand around her pussy mound, thumb dipping through her lips or circling her clit through her panties.

"You said you'd help me!" Daphne declared.

"I will, when we get there." Harry grinned.

"You're such a pervert, it's so disgusting—oh!"

Harry pulled her panties to one side and craned his neck forward to give her pussy a lick. She had the most gorgeous pussy, full lips shiny with his saliva. He stuck a finger in to the knuckle, working away at her wetness, hooking his finger to feel her tight walls. Inside, she was hot, wet, ready — and with every thrust of his finger, her asshole winked at him.

Daphne gasped as he inserted another finger, and she couldn't deny the wet squelching of her traitorous pussy, her lips wet as he sawed his fingers back and forth.

"You like getting finger-fucked, don't you, Daph?" Harry teased. "In your back garden."

"I do not!" She harrumphed. "I'm just trying to get us to the potential Death Eater, need I remind—" She moaned suddenly as Harry picked up the pace, fucking her with his fingers, his breath hot on her sex. The wet squelching sounds were so humiliating. Daphne couldn't help herself — the location, her childhood tunnel to her secret cabin, the danger of a Death Eater nearby, Harry's magic enveloping her in warmth and security, his fingers working away at her private place.

Pop!

Harry withdrew his digits and Daphne closed her eyes when she realized he was tasting his fingers languidly, mockingly.

"You taste so good when you're turned on, Daphne."

"Are you done?" She said acidly.

"Not until you admit that you like this, beautiful."

"It's just science, it doesn't mean anything, my own fingers would have the same effect—ah, oh! Oh!"

Harry muttered a spell to clean her asshole out, a warm oily sensation spreading through Daphne's tiny anus. Her ass wriggled as the odd feeling spread.

"What are you—fuck, what?"

Harry grinned as his other hand joined the fray. He coated a finger in her warm wet pussy, soaking it, and then withdrew it in order to circle his finger around her pink ring, lubing up her anus.

"Harry, that's disgusting, please—"

Her ass shook as his finger rimmed around her asshole, but the tunnel was so tight, she couldn't even look back at him. She was just stuck, held by his groping hands.

One hand fingered her gently, slowly — and then Harry's finger stopped circling her rosebud and started pressing in, forcing his finger into her ass.

"Harry!" She wailed. "That's so wrong, you can't, it's against—"

He never found out what it was against because she trembled, pussy flooding out a fresh squirt of juices onto his fingers as his finger in her ass wiggled deeper into her tight hole, barely above to move.

Her pussy and her anus were both incredibly tight — Harry reminded himself she was a virgin in both holes. Not for long, he grinned, pushing his fingers deeper, sawing in a rhythm — his wet fingers would pull out of her pussy, almost, just as his finger deepened into her tight asshole. Her asscheeks jiggled as she wriggled helplessly.

"I can stop anytime you want."

"Stop, stop, stop." Daphne chanted, though she was arching her lower back, pushing back at his fingers.

"You just need to admit that you like this."

"I-what?" Daphne's mind was clouded with lust and humiliation.

"Tell me you love it when I finger your pussy and your ass."

"I—ooh!" Her toes curled as she came, Harry's hooked grip rubbing against her g-spot, his fingers in her anus had her feeling so full. Sometimes she could his fingers in both holes were rubbing against each other through the thin skin between them. "I love it, okay?! I love it, I love it, I love it!" Daphne all but shouted, tears falling from her eyes.

And then his touch was gone, leaving her crying into the ground, hands burrowing into the soil.

"Good girl." He murmured, pressing a kiss to her tight buttock. He fixed her panties and pulled down her skirt to cover her. "Shall we get moving? We have a Death Eater to catch, after all."

Daphne's mind swarmed as she gasped for breath, still trembling from her orgasm and the sudden disappearance of her touch. She could smell her own musk. She could feel her own wetness — in her panties, on her thighs.

Harry stayed silent while she recovered. And when she was done, she wiped her face, sniffling, and shuffled forward. Out from the rosebushes and into a small garden, thick with plants, petals of every color. It was a magical rainbow-shaded garden, plants growing tall from the ground and hanging low from the baskets on the hemp rope that was tied from tree to tree.

In the center, a rustic wooden cabin stood, small but homely.

"This is where I go." Daphne said lamely, wiping her face as she sniffled.

"I'm sorry, beautiful." Harry tried, kissing her cheek. "I can't help myself when it comes to you. I want you so badly."

"Why do you even…I mean why do you play games with me?" Daphne said quietly. "I'm not even…I mean, if you wanted, you could just take me. Make me want it, if you're worried about Morgana's maidenhood magic."

"I want you to want me, Daphne." He traced her lips with his thumb and kissed her. "I want you to understand what I'm going to be. I want you to beg, to kneel before me."

She shivered.

And then she pointed at a tree trunk, a large oak tree with a large tree hollow. "The hollow is charmed — it's bigger than it looks. We can walk through it to get to the ward edges."

Harry led the way this time, wand out, his business mind taking over. He whistled and from above, Hedwig screeched. He could see her white form barely visible against the white clouds.

Through the tree hollow, they emerged on the ward edges. A shimmering vibrating bubble that rose up to the sky — but only on the inside, to assure them they were safe within. From the outside, the wards wouldn't even be visible.

Harry pushed through the wards warily. If there really was a Death Eater inspecting things, it might be one of Voldemort's best. Dismantling wards was no easy task.

Hedwig glided above, rising and falling on the air currents. But she made not a sound.

The forest was dense, so dense that the light from above struggled to pierce it, leaving shadows that shifted. Birdsong trilled over the sound of chittering insects, these trees overgrown, leaning toward one another. The forest floor was a mass of enlarged roots and fallen branches, each covered in a flood of dead mushy leaves, mush turning to mud that tried to grip them by their shoes.

Daphne trembled behind him.

Harry tried to cast out his senses, his magic, searching for the enemy.

Nothing.

But the ward line was long and wide. They walked the perimeter slowly, calm ease spreading over them. As the morning waned on, they became more wary of spraining an ankle than a Death Eater.

Daphne said. "I think he's gone, if there was any—"

Hedwig screeched from above. Harry swore and tugged Daphne down behind a tree, eyes searching through the trees, looking for the enemy.

Hedwig had seen something — but he couldn't see his owl, the trees above having formed a canopy of thick branches, even though they were bare of leaves. And with the white clouds beyond them, seeing his white owl was almost impossible.

But her continual hooting was loud. Near.

Harry's eyes tried to pierce the darkness. A twig cracked in the undergrowth. Daphne's breath was so loud.

He knew the Death Eater was here. But did the Death Eater know they were?

"Avada Kedavra—" Harry shoved Daphne behind him just as the tree trunk exploded in a thick green gouge, splinters bursting out.

One of the splinters gouged above his eye, blood pouring down to stem his vision.

But Harry had seen enough.

A quick shield blocked two spells before Harry cast another inner shield and then a mass of birds, for good measure. With a burst of intent, he ordered his flock of birds to circle around them — they were the best way to block the Killing Curse without blocking his vision.

A figure slid out from behind a tree, twenty feet away. Close, but there was so many tree trunks between them. So much cover.

Another curse destroyed another tree trunk — and while the trunks were getting splintered and hollowed out, they weren't falling. The cover was still firm.

"Don't move, keep low, keep hidden." Harry ordered Daphne. "I'll deal with this."

She just nodded, holding her wand firmly, even as her shoulders shook.

He needed to find a way to defeat the Death Eater without exposing Daphne — and without the ability to circle around. He wasn't going to be able to hit him in a spell-on-spell duel, not with this amount of cover.

Harry groaned as he realized he'd left his schoolbag in the Chamber of Secrets, complete with invisibility cloak. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." He muttered.

"Is that you, Potter? With the little Greengrass whore?" A man's voice yelled. Harry frowned — he didn't recognize it.

It mattered not.

With a swish of his wand, he sent the brown leaves on the ground up high, a cyclone of nature simply to keep himself out of sight while he slid from one tree trunk to the next.

That worked until the man sent a counter-spell. Harry grimaced and conjured a mirror — a cosmetics spell for women, but it worked well enough in his tilted hand to spot the man. A black robe and a bearded face — he must be a confident wizard if he wasn't even going to wear a mask.

Harry bit his lip, thinking. His poor performance against the French duelist had dented his confidence, but he was still sure he could defeat this single Death Eater. He might just need to pull some dirty tricks.

Tom had a few favorites.

One was from a book on children's magic — Tom had been scammed in Egypt. He'd paid a bag full of galleons to a magic dealer for a tome on Egyptian curses — and received a book of parlor tricks to entertain children at a party.

Harry muttered the spell. All it did was cause a slight popping sound — like an Apparition. The pop caused the Death Eater to whirl around in a panic, anticipating an Apparition-strike from behind.

But apparating during a duel was often slow, disorienting, and seldom worked, so instead Harry used the opportunity to sprint closer, closing the gap on the wizard.

A wand whipped down and then up and the thousands of leaves below formed into a wall-shape. "Epoximise." He murmured and the leaves stuck together, thick like cement. A overcharged Incendio and his leaf-wall went up in burning flames, smoke sizzling from its top.

"Depulso!"

The fire wall shot at the Death Eater, who hurriedly whipped it away with a gush of wind slashed from his wand. The leaves swayed but did not stop.

In his panic, he conjured a shield, buying into the trap. Harry grinned. All his opponent had to do was Depulso it back, or even explode it with Expulso, or at the very least buy himself some time with a strong Aguamenti. But when a wall of fire shot towards you, the first instinct was often to shield.

And the shield created a bubble around him, protecting him from the fire projectiles. But the wall of flaming leaves disintegrated with just a mutter from his lips, letting each flame-leaf sink onto the shield bubble, coating him in flames, clouding his view.

He'd trapped himself in his own shower of fire and smoke.

The Death Eater reacted quickly, to his credit — the shield dropped just as he cast a Ventus, shooting a wind cyclone that shot the leaves away. But all it did was create more smoke — and Harry had long since gone.

The Death Eater only had time to swear before a Cutting Charm buckled his knees to the ground, tendons slicing in a gout of blood. Then, he was roped to the tree, hands bound behind his back, struggling and kicking and cursing.

"Is that you, Yaxley?" Harry recognized the man's hard features and oddly unpleasant smile.

"Do you really want to provoke the Dark Lord so, Pot—" Harry silenced him, yawning.

"Yes, yes. Daphne? You can come out now."

She emerged slowly, wand out. Silently, she came to stand next to him, staring up at the Death Eater as he yelled uselessly, his face red.

"Who is he?" She asked.

"Yaxley. One of the Dark Lord's old hands, from the First War. It looks like he got rusty, over the years — he used to be quite threatening. More of a ward-breaker than a duelist, though."

Daphne looked at him, and he knew she was mentally questioning where he got his information. She knew better than to ask.

She bit her lip. "You didn't even struggle."

Harry shrugged. "Duels can be decided in seconds sometimes, even when you're good. One mistake and you're done. He fell for a dirty trick with the leaves — if he'd done anything else than a shield charm, he would have been fine."

She looked at him in wonder. "How are you so calm? I can't stop shaking and I didn't even do anything."

"Practice. Experience. It'll come to you." He slid his arm around her — she must have been shaken, because she let him.

"What-what are you going to do to him?"

"Nothing. You're going to do it." Harry decided. He held her from behind, one arm around her waist, the other lifting her wand hand up.

"Harry…" Daphne trailed off unsurely.

"Sssh." He murmured softly, pressing a kiss to her bare neck. "You want to be stronger, right? Did it feel good when the Death Eaters were in your home, when they threatened your mother, your sister?"

"No."

"Of course it didn't. Don't you want to be able to protect them, next time? How are you going to do that if you aren't willing to hurt them?"

Daphne stayed still, silent.

"I mean, you can always ask me, but you know what I ask of you in return." Harry teased. "I mean, you had to do some really degrading things for my help already — I face-fucked you, came all over your face, remember?"

"I remember!" She bit out sharply, glaring at him and then at Yaxley. Why did he have to say it in front of the Death Eater?

"Oh, sorry." Harry nodded at the man stuck to the tree trunk. "Forgot he was there. You probably don't want anyone else knowing what I did to you."

"Alright, I get it." Daphne huffed. She held her arm out, but it was trembling. "What-what spell should I use?"

"Well, Stupefy isn't going to cut it." He grinned, holding her tighter, his erect shaft pressing between her ass cheeks, so hard it felt like it would burst through his robes and her skirt. He breathed into her ear. "What do we use when we want to kill someone, my Daphne?"

"You want me to use the Killing Curse?" She sputtered.

"I don't want you to do anything." Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. But these Death Eaters were going to rape your sister and your mother, Daphne." He whispered into her ear. Daphne closed her eyes as she felt his breath in her ear, on her neck, the little kisses he pressed down her skin.

She tilted her neck, letting him do as he pleased, his hand coming up to brush against her breast.

"What do you think we should do, sweetheart?" Harry asked. "What does he deserve, for hurting your family?"

It wasn't even Yaxley who was there on the raid on her manor, but it didn't matter.

"Death." Daphne breathed out.

"Death, it is. You have to want to kill him, beautiful girl. Can you do that for me?"

His hand in her blouse, under her bra, rolling her nipple between his fingers. The other dipped down her skirt, down those soaking wet panties, finding her netherlips. "I can." She shuddered out.

"Good. Do it. He's going to rape and kill your family, Daphne, do it quick." He ordered.

Daphne held her wand out, bit her lip. And then she gasped for breath and snarled. "Avada Kedavra!"

Nothing. The wand lit green. The wind whistled. A spark flew. But there was no curse, no rage. No death.

She fell limp in his arms, crestfallen.

Harry sighed and held out his wand. "Avada Kedavra." He said simply. Blinding green light. An odd sound that rushed through the air, like the whole of everything was moving. Yaxley fell to the ground with an unceremonious thump, his ropes vanished. Dead.

"I'm-I'm sorry." Daphne muttered, her head low.

"It's okay." Harry said gently. "But if you can't do it yourself, then you need me to protect you and your family, you understand?"

"Please." She tugged at his robes, burying her head in his neck. "Please." She said again.

"Come." Harry led them back through their wards, floating Yaxley's corpse back through with them. He sent his Patronus back to the Greengrass Manor to inform Cynthia that they were well and the ward-breaker had been dealt with.

Back to Daphne's secret hideout. She took a deep breath and then unlocked it with a charm and a key under a plant pot.

"Have you ever brought anyone here?" Harry asked.

She shook her head, scraping her hand through her hair nervously. Inside, it was cozy, candlelight lighting up a simple room. A mattress covered in blankets and pillows. Books scattered across the floor. Snacks — chocolates and cookies.

Harry picked up one of the books — romance, but the steamy kind. He flicked through it. Very steamy.

"Do you ever masturbate in here?" He asked casually. "Don't lie."

"Y-yes." Daphne blushed.

"Good." He laid down on her bed and tugged her down with them. "You read a sexy book and finger yourself, right?"

"It's my place to be alone." She admitted.

Harry stroked her hair gently as she laid her head on his chest, understanding how vulnerable she was.

"Do you understand that the right question isn't about how strong I am?" He asked her.

She stiffened and mumbled into his chest. "Yes."

"What's the right question?"

She paused, hesitated. "It's about how strong I am. How useful I can be."

"Good girl." He kissed her forehead. "Strong wizards need strong witches, right?"

"Right." She clawed into his shirt, burying her head, afraid of his gaze. "Can you…make me strong?"

"I can. But I told you, didn't I? I won't take you until you beg me. Are you ready to beg?"

Daphne was silent for a long time, circling her finger onto his collarbone, curled up atop him. "No." She decided finally.

"That's okay."

"I'm sorry." She said genuinely. "I won't…I won't make you wait long."

"You had better not."

They cuddled there for a long while, until Daphne shifted and realized he was hard. "Can I-I mean, should I? Do you want me to?"

"No, sweetheart. But that doesn't mean I don't want anything from you."

"Okay." Daphne stood up and started taking her clothes off, because she was intelligent.

"Leave the skirt and the stockings. Panties too."

She held her arm over her breasts until she realized she was being silly, dropping it to reveal her luscious and perky more-than-handful breasts. She dropped down to the bed and let him position her, on her hands and knees. Let him pull her panties down to her thighs, let him push the skirt up over her back.

Daphne closed her eyes as she felt his saliva-dripping finger circle her anus again. She shivered at his touch. But this what he wanted. This was what she owed for being weak.

His finger slipped in easy this time, and soon enough she was in a familiar rhythm, rocking back and forth on his finger. She wondered if her traitorous body would ever deny him, if she'd ever not be humiliatingly submissive.

But soon enough, he'd finished. She looked back at him to see a jewel in his hand.

Not a jewel, she realized. An emerald jeweled circular base…the base of an egg-shaped toy. A buttplug.

"I…" Daphne opened her mouth to argue. And realized she didn't want to argue. Couldn't argue. Because she needed him.

And he knew it.

Instead, she just looked back at him, wiggling her ass for him. He liked her ass — but that wouldn't be enough, not if she wasn't useful. Men didn't want girls who said no all the time.

"Good girl." He kissed her asscheek softly. And then, slowly but surely, he pushed the cool cold plug inside her. Daphne gasped at the girth of it, at how full it made her, stretching her ring wide. It felt…not unpleasant.

"I want you to keep it in as much as you can." Harry told her, kissing her softly as he brought her gently around to lie on him. His fingers delved between her cheeks and pushed at the emerald base, toying with it lightly, enjoying her hisses. "I'm going to check for it the next time we're together. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, Harry."

"Good girl."

And then she laid her head down and resolutely didn't cry. Because she wanted to be strong and Harry could make her strong, as long as she did what he asked. And if he wanted her ass, then that's what she'd give.