Susan couldn't sleep.
The truth was a bit more complicated. At first, she had tossed and turned for over an hour while sleep evaded her. The events of the day played in her head on repeat. The intimidation she felt walking into Wizengamott. The satisfaction that came when those awful people's plans fell apart in front of them. The pride, when Susan realized she was part of why they failed. Then, there was the fear.
When all those Death Eaters, members of the Inner Circle, came storming out of that courtroom… Susan had been terrified, even if she hardly showed it. And when Harry repelled them, not only getting them to leave but even threatening them back, she had been grateful.
To him. To the jailor. To the murderer.
It made sense she couldn't close her eyes after realizing that.
But eventually, after trying for long enough, she succeeded in drifting into a dreamless slumber. Until she was awoken by sharp cries. A woman was screaming.
Susan stayed still for five minutes before realizing that she wasn't going to be sleeping anymore. She rose, shrugging on a robe and forging out into the chilly hallway beyond. It was like the sounds were calling out to her.
"Hello?" Susan called. "Fleur? Is that you?"
She'd been afraid that there were intruders. Perhaps the same Death Eaters Susan fell asleep thinking about had descended on the house in the night. Susan imagined Unforgivables spat from their wands, dark magic twisting and torturing captives. Susan had never seen such a thing… But she heard stories during the war.
If that really was what was happening, Susan should be running. But she'd already discarded the possibility as a baseless fear. Fleur didn't sound pained, and although she was ashamed to admit it, Harry's home would not be so easily raided. After Pettigrew, he'd grown borderline-paranoid in the precautions with which he surrounded himself.
Fleur's voice was coming from her room. When she got close, Susan picked up the sound of running water. The cries were louder now, accompanied by a dull slapping. On the threshold of the open door with light spilling out, Susan froze. There was no way, right? They couldn't be—
Fleur screamed again, and now, Susan was close enough that she couldn't mistake what she was hearing. Fleur was wailing with orgasmic delight.
At that point (if not even earlier) Susan knew what she should do. Return to her room. Shut the door. Wrap her pillow around her ears if she had to and force herself to ignore it for good.
Susan crept forward instead.
The light inside the room was coming from lit candles on the walls. Not only was the bedroom door open, so was the one into the bathroom. That was where the cries were echoing out of. On the floor, Susan spotted not just Harry's robes, but a discarded set of women's underwear so scandalous it alone could've made Susan blush.
Then there were the shadows. Behind the glass, inside the shower, Susan could hear water spraying from the showerhead and see steam wafting out. A dark blob was framed in the light. If she squinted, Susan could make out a woman's body with a larger shape looming behind it.
She physically jumped when a bang! wrang out, the glass of the shower rattling. Susan's breath caught. Two large, shapely breasts were being mashed flat, the nipples visible through the glass. Slightly higher, Susan could see a cheek getting the same treatment. The glass shook so badly that Susan worried the pane would be shattered by the force Fleur was being fucked with.
Susan's breath got shallow and quick. The longer she watched, the more a strange feeling spread through her. She was already being reckless, stupid, and erratic. But she wasn't satisfied. Her body demanded more from her. Susan sank to her knees.
Her hands slipped through the gap down the front of her robe. Underneath, she wore only loose shorts, panties, and a bra. The shorts' waistband didn't even slow her hands as they slipped under it, fingers digging past the entrance of her pussy to slip inside her. Susan's own quiet grunts joined the cacophony, though they were audible only to her, the spectator.
The fleshy impacts of the couple's bodies were violently loud, each one pounding another raucous moan out of Fleur. Susan couldn't imagine what it must feel like to be on the receiving end of something like that. Her fingers felt like paltry toys in comparison. Yet the moans only grew more excited with each passing thrust.
Fleur. She was the most beautiful woman Susan had ever seen, yet one conversation had been enough to show Susan that she was more than a pretty face. Fleur possessed a fiery personality and a fierce sense of pride. She was a stellar witch who even when the whole world turned dark, refused to lose her bite. In many ways, she was who Susan wished she could be herself. So she did something unfair. She pinned her own hopes, the ones she was too much of a coward to chase, onto Fleur's back, regardless of what Fleur wanted or what burdens she might've already been carrying. That was how their relationship began— two prisoners sharing a cell, one waiting for the other to make her dreams come true.
Things changed. Fleur called her out for what she'd done, and though she didn't want to hear it, Susan knew immediately that it was true. Although it was brief, you could say they fought. Then, before they had time to speak to each other again, the rat had arrived.
For once, Susan wasn't a coward. She forced her body to move after being frozen so many times before. She bought Fleur time, and Fleur drew the rat away from her in return. After that, she felt they'd grown closer.
She considered Fleur a friend. A role model in some ways. Someone that, if Susan could learn to be a little bit more like, her life might not be so awful.
So why was Susan so turned on watching Fleur pussy being pounded in?
She could still see it: the outline of Fleur's sinful body, squashed into the glass as Harry gave her thrust after thrust. Susan wasn't a pervert. She'd stumbled on Harry and the blond hag going at it during her periodic visits, and she never stayed to watch. Why would she? She just moved on, ignoring them as if they didn't exist. What was different about this? Why couldn't she ignore it like she had before?
Susan's fingers struck a spot that made pleasure bloom through her crotch. She pitched forward, supporting herself with one hand as she lay hunched over. The glass of the shower shook, sliding open slightly as Harry twisted Fleur around, fucking fucking her facing the shower head
Susan's eyes widened. It was only a sliver, but she could see Fleur's head through the gap. It was like looking at a different woman. In the throes of pleasure, passion had overtaken her face, her wet hair hanging down around her half-open eyes. Her smile was dopey, yet full of fire. A large male hand appeared, grabbing one of Fleur's swinging breasts and giving it a hefty squeeze and twist. Another moan tore from Fleur's throat. Susan's thighs clenched. She could feel something happening inside her pussy.
Susan didn't even know when the last time she touched herself was. Her body had its needs, but she'd ignored them for a very long time. It built up now, her hips bucking desperately as she squirted on her fingers. When she pulled them free they were sticky, strands spanning the gaps between them. A low moan escaped Susan.
Too late, she remembered what situation she was in. When she looked up, her eyes going wide, Fleur was looking at her.
She didn't say anything, but Susan felt entranced. The look in Fleur's blue eyes was mesmerizing, sultry and inhumanly inviting. Fleur smiled at her. She lifted one finger, beckoning Susan closer. Every atom in Susan's body screamed to rush forward and embrace her. Even if she could only lick up the remnants when these two were done, that would be enough to satisfy her. Join them. Join them!
Susan shook off the stupor coming over her, scrambling to her feet and fleeing. Behind her, in the shower, Fleur released a musical giggle before Harry wrapped his hand around her hair. She was yanked back, disappearing behind the glass as Harry bit into her neck.
The sounds continued for a long time after that, but Susan never approached again, fleeing back to her room and burying herself under her blankets.
It didn't take long for her fingers to find their way under her panties, touching herself as she shut her eyes and listened to the muted screams.
O-O-O
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I am not exactly myself when I get worked up. My heritage comes out, and it makes me behave a bit differently. I do not always take into account how others might feel."
Susan nodded nervously. She'd been on her way to breakfast the following morning when Fleur cornered her— literally. She was trapped in the junction between two walls, the quarter-veela standing awkwardly close.
Fleur seemed to be trying to make a genuine apology, and Susan appreciated that. Really, she did! But it was a bit ruined by the splotchy bruises on her pale neck that Susan couldn't pull her eyes away from. They continued down to her collar bone and went lower, disappearing behind Fleur's robe right above the chest.
"It's alright," Susan squeaked.
"Hmmm." Fleur leaned forward, and Susan worried she'd realized what Susan was looking at. "Unless what made you uncomfortable was that we left you out."
Susan blushed bright red. "Wha—"
"You could always join us," Fleur whispered. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, that offer is always open."
Susan had no words.
"What are you two doing?"
Harry had arrived, standing at the end of the hall looking confused. Fleur left Susan's personal space, turning toward him with a smile.
"Nothing, Love," she said. "Just woman things."
Harry shrugged, turning and leaving. Fleur followed him… but not before giving Susan a wink.
It was a while before Susan managed to pull herself out of the corner. Her heart was beating like crazy, and she took a minute to let it settle before going downstairs and joining the others for breakfast.
Harry made no mention of the night before, so Susan assumed Fleur hadn't said anything to him. A small mercy. What had she been thinking, anyway? It was so much easier to remember who she had been lusting over when she could see his face, letting old scars and familiar anger throb.
Breakfast was a muted affair. They ate largely in silence— Susan stewing on her conflicted feelings, Fleur quietly satisfied, and Harry rarely spoke unless prompted anyway. When her portion was eaten, Fleur stood up.
"I ought to get dressed," she declared. "We can leave when I am done."
She bent to kiss Harry's cheek, then strutted from the room. Susan wasn't sure if her good mood was purely down to the night she had, or if there was something else.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
Harry chewed a bite of eggs, swallowing before answering.
"To visit a friend," he said. "Fleur's been looking forward to it for a while."
"She likes them?"
"No," Harry said. "No, it's quite the opposite."
O-O-O
When Harry and Fleur stepped out of the Floo flames, both Draco and Astoria were there to greet them. Astoria was dressed in a pretty black dress, while Draco's buttoned shirt had the collar askew. He didn't look good. Despite having naturally pallid skin, Draco's skin was pale by his standards.
"Harry!" he said. He didn't greet Fleur, but his eyes darted over and hung there for a few seconds too long before returning to his friend. "It's been a while since you were here. Do you like what we've done with the place?"
Harry turned his head, studying the living room. It did look better than it had the last time he was there, before Pettigrew's auction, but he still didn't think much of it. The place was extremely tidy and decorated to show off wealth, featuring expensive furniture seemingly for the sake of it.
"It's certainly improved," he said.
Draco gave him a shallow smile. "It's all Astoria. She's got an incredible eye for detail, really."
His wife nodded, her face expressionless. There was an awkward silence that stretched for over ten seconds before Draco couldn't handle it.
"I didn't expect you to come here," he admitted.
"I thought that I should," Harry said. "It might be the last time that I can for a long while."
More life sunk out of Draco's features, but he nodded.
"We should talk," Harry said. "Away from the others."
"Right." Draco sighed. "Yes. We should, shouldn't we? Come along. My office will work.
Draco led Harry down the hall. Harry left Fleur, exchanging a brief glance with her. When he got to the hallway, he casually closed the door to the living room behind him.
Draco's office was more cluttered than Harry expected. To his knowledge, Draco didn't have a job at all, merely living off of the Malfoy fortune. But somehow he found paperwork of some kind to scatter across his desk. There was a bookshelf that was roughly half-full. Pushed up against the window was a daybed with unmade blankets scattered around it. Sitting on the bed like a doll was Lavender Brown. She was nude, but Draco grabbed one of the blankets and hastily tossed it over her figure. When he saw that Harry was still looking at her, he blushed slightly.
"Why is she here?" Draco said, guessing Harry's unvoiced question. "I know it's not ideal, but Astoria said she couldn't come into the bedroom anymore. Threw a right fit about it, too— witches get so worked up about the strangest things. You can just ignore Lavender. If you don't talk to her, she won't talk to you."
"Draco, you should stop," Harry said.
Draco's embarrassed smile grew confused. "Sorry? Stop what?"
"What good is keeping a person like this?"
Draco looked between Harry and Lavender. "But you came with a slave yourself… Oh. Do you mean the curse? You like them to be aware of it, is that it? I've never been too fussed, but I know everyone's got their tastes." Draco leaned forward, covering his mouth the back of his hand for confidentiality, despite the two of them being effectively alone in the room. "Even if they're cursed, they'll still scream if you give them the right commands."
He said it like it was a trade tip, passed along as a personal favor. When Harry's face didn't change at all, Draco backed up, his smile fading quickly. He cleared his throat.
"That's not what you came for today though," he said. "What do you want, Harry? Apologize for stabbing my family in the back? Or do you want me to stab my father in the back for you now? I won't do it, not for any amount of begging or blackmail. Not even if you're the one asking me."
"I didn't come today with an objective," Harry said. "I just wanted to speak to you now, before it becomes too late. And, if I can, to explain things from my perspective."
Draco sagged. Harry wasn't sure if he realized he was doing this, but he paced to the daybed instead of the chair behind his desk, dropping onto the mattress. As he heaved a heavy sigh, Lavender moved as if summoned, stroking the back of his hand. Because her face never changed, the gesture was uncanny enough to send shivers down Harry's spine.
"Tell me," Draco said.
Harry nodded once, collecting himself before he spoke.
"For the longest time, I have been living for nothing," he said.
"Father offered you a cause—!"
Harry held up his hand.
"Please, no interruptions yet," he said, and Draco quieted. "It's true. I wasn't living for anything. Ever since the war ended, there seemed to be no purpose for me. Lucius and Yaxley wanted my vote. Crouch wanted to find a kindred spirit in me, something I have never been and never will be. Bellatrix wanted my life ruined. But what did I want? I didn't care about any of this."
Harry paced behind the desk, his bad leg dragging behind him.
"During the war, everything was simple. My job was to kill my master's enemies. Dumbledore and his allies had to be defeated, then they were, but I was still here. I don't have hobbies. I hardly have friends. What was I supposed to live for?"
Draco clenched his jaw. Harry didn't know if this was an intentional command, but he noticed Lavender start stroking his arm faster. Harry put his hands on the desk, leaning forward.
"Then it came to me," Harry said. "Master took over the entire country, but he wants no part of running it. He's left his servants to play around like it's their personal sandbox, and they've done nothing but bicker and fight ever since. Someone has to take control, because the Dark Lord won't. I'll unite his servants again. I'll remind them that they are meant to serve. And the next time Voldemort needs his Death Eaters to march, they'll be prepared to. Because I prepared them."
There wasn't a quiver of doubt in his voice. There never was when he lied.
He and Fleur came up with this story not long after they chose to fight back. If their true intentions ever became common knowledge, every faction would band together to strike them down as fast as possible. They needed a cover— a story to explain Harry's actions that wouldn't implicate him in forsaking all that Death Eaters stood for. The answer they finally came up with was simple. He had to show ambition.
It was something any Slytherin could understand. The likes of Yaxley and Crouch would still fight him every step of the way, but they wouldn't suspect him. After all, there was nothing suspicious about him wanting to grasp a larger share of power, especially at the expense of others. It was nothing more than all of them were doing.
"You're serious," Draco said.
"Deadly serious."
"And there's no changing your mind?"
Harry laughed. "Draco, it's already begun."
News of the Wizengamot session the day before had spread like a wildfire. Not to mention the confrontation after, with Harry nearly getting into a duel with three members of the Inner Circle.
"True." Draco paused. "I guess this is it, then?"
"You could always join me," Harry said.
Draco looked away. "You know I… I really can't."
Harry just nodded. It was a longshot anyway. Draco wasn't the same as Ginny Weasley or Neville Longbottom. To bring him over would require convincing him to renounce his past. It would mean giving up the way he currently lived. Truthfully, Harry wasn't sure Draco was capable of ever doing that.
He couldn't completely ignore the ache in his heart as his best friend committed to the opposite side.
"Is that it then?" Draco asked.
"That's the business done," Harry said. "But I hope we're not completely finished yet."
He reached into a Mokeskin pouch fastened to his waist. From it, he drew a tall bottle of alcohol, setting it on the desk. Two glasses joined it seconds later.
"Have a drink with me," Harry said.
Ruefully, Draco stood and sauntered over as Harry poured them each a drink. When both glasses were full, they toasted— not to the occasion, so much as to everything that was being left behind. Even now, in a sentimental moment, Harry noticed that Draco let him drink first. His lips twinged ruefully as alcohol burned his throat.
That was what it meant to be a Slytherin. Today's best friend could be tomorrow's enemy, and they weren't above swelling your throat shut with poisoned wine if it would get them ahead. How sad.
As they sipped their drinks without speaking, Harry counted in his head. Three minutes passed before the drinks were drained.
That would do. With this, Fleur should have had enough time.
Harry smiled while packing the bottle and glasses back into his pouch. Poisoning wasn't his style, but Draco was right about one thing.
He wasn't above using a sentimental occasion like this to get ahead in the world.
O-O-O
The atmosphere was tense in the living room. Astoria Greengrass had gone to sit on the couch, staring vacantly at the floor. Then Fleur came over and sat down beside her. Now that made Astoria glare.
"So you did all this decorating yourself?" Fleur asked. "It's quite good."
"Don't speak to me," Astoria said.
As if she hadn't heard her, Fleur leaned over, looking out the window at the sea below. "You have a lovely view in this cottage as well. Did your husband pick it out, or did you?"
"I do not want to speak with you!" Astoria said.
"I wish Harry's house was beside the sea," Fleur said. "It is my favorite part of Britain. I like it because when I'm there, I can stare over the waves and pretend I'm not in Britain."
Astoria pulled her wand from a pocket in her dress, aiming it at Fleur. "I said be quiet, slave!"
As soon as her wand appeared, it slipped from her fingers and flew into Fleur's. Astoria looked down. A long, pale wand was pointed at her stomach.
"Do you like it?" Fleur asked pleasantly. "Eleven inches, Apple wood, with a veela hair for the core. It is not so good as my first wand, but I confess I appreciate this one more."
Astoria looked up again, staying extremely still.
"You can't have that. I'll tell Harry!"
"Tell him," Fleur said. "He bought it for me. We found that Mr. Ollivander was more than happy to make a sale off the books. Perhaps it had something to do with his late father Garrick's demise. Whatever the reason, I'm very grateful."
"What do you hope to accomplish?" Astoria asked. "Revenge, because I hexed you last time?"
"Good memory," Fleur praised. "Another of your skills, I presume. Just like attention to detail." She cast her eyes around the room. "Not a thing out of place. I imagine you could go through a room, move things about, and replace them just how they were. You could even, say, slip sugar into a potion and put things back together perfectly when you were done!"
Fleur laughed as if she'd told a joke. Astoria still wasn't moving.
"You can't prove anything," Astoria said.
"We have nothing to prove," said Fleur. "We know you did it, and we are going to act accordingly."
"You can't threaten me!"
"Oh, my mistake," Fleur said with faux-sincerity. "You should go and report that. Take it to Head Auror Mulciber right away!"
Astoria scowled, assuming Fleur's point was that no one would believe her. That particular threat wouldn't settle in for a day or two— but once the news broke, it was one Astoria wasn't likely to forget.
"Your husband confessed that Pettigrew approached him," Fleur said. "He offered him more slaves in exchange for sneaking into Harry's home. Your husband was a good enough friend to turn him down. But you must have heard them. What deal did you strike, I wonder? I imagine Pettigrew told you he would get rid of the slave Draco already has. I've heard about it, you know. How he chooses that girl over you—"
Astoria grabbed for her wand. Fleur muttered a spell. There was a brief flash of purple that struck Astoria in the stomach. She doubled forward clutching her gut, hissing in pain.
"With that, I say we're even for when you hexed me," Fleur said. Without warning, the false levity she'd talked with disappeared. "As for you slipping into our home under the pretense of looking for your husband, ruining Harry's potions and imagining you would get away with it… We know. From now on, when we call, you will come running. When we tell you to jump, you will do so until your leetle calves burn. If we tell you to kill, you will do eet without asking why. Because if you do not, Draco eez going to be a bachelor again." Fleur paused, her mocking smile returning. "Do you suppose he will marry Lavender if that happens? He might even be happier."
Astoria tried to set the quarter-veela on fire with her eyes.
Without warning, Fleur stuffed Astoria's wand back into her hand. She leaned back on the couch, her smile disappearing, and pocketed her own wand. The door opened. Draco and Harry entered, both looking serious. Draco's attention fell on Astoria.
"Doing some cleaning, Dear?" he asked, looking at the wand in her hand.
Astoria only hesitated for a second.
"Yes," she said, carefully not looking at Harry or Fleur. "The dust keeps piling up. Always something to do."
"You should really leave that for the elves," Draco said.
"I suppose so." Astoria slid her wand back into her pocket. "I guess I forget myself."
She kept her eyes off their guests as Fleur joined Harry by the fireplace. While Draco awkwardly said goodbye she remained seated, trying to make herself seem small.
"I suppose this is it," Draco said. "Truly, this time."
"I suppose it is," Harry said.
There were no other words left between them. Harry turned away, pinching Floo powder between his fingers. Draco watched him. Then, with Fleur at his back, Harry stepped through the fireplace and was gone. Draco and Astoria were left behind in an otherwise empty room.
It wasn't five minutes before Draco fled back to his office. Not long later, grunts and moans could be heard from down the hall. Astoria sat unmoving until suddenly, she surged up, swiping a vase off the nearest table and shattering it on the floor.
But that was all she could do.