The Slytherin boys' dormitory lay submerged in a dull green gloom, lit faintly by the filtered light of the Black Lake that pressed against the thick glass set into the stone wall. The water beyond rippled slowly, shadows of squid or kelp trailing past in silence.
Harry Potter stirred beneath his blanket, still warm from sleep, eyes barely open. For a moment, he thought the strange heaviness in his body was just part of a dream.
Then he felt a stiff, throbbing pressure pushing against the thin cotton of his pyjama bottoms. He shifted, groggy, then looked down.
The fabric was stretched into a visible tent. His heartbeat picked up. He tried to will it away, lying still, counting backwards, thinking of anything cold. Nothing helped.
The ache deepened with each twitch of his cock. When his thighs shifted, the cloth dragged against him, sending heat curling through his stomach.
With a quiet curse, he pushed off the blanket and sat up. The air was cool against his face, but not enough to help. He slid off the bed, tugged on his grey school trousers, and fastened the clasp, adjusting himself as discreetly as possible. It barely helped.
His erection pressed high and awkward inside the waistband, stiff and unforgiving. He pulled on his uniform shirt and Slytherin robes over it, buttoning quickly, fingers a bit shaky.
Outside in the common room, the green light from the lake gave the space an eerie calm. The walls were carved with twisting serpents and dark stone columns, and the ceiling curved high above, domed like a cathedral. One enchanted lamp glowed over the fireplace, where emerald flames licked at the grate. Two sixth-years sat hunched near the hearth, scribbling on parchment.
His childhood friend Daphne Greengrass stood near one of the chairs, speaking quietly with Tracey Davis, his other childhood friend. Her long pale-blonde hair shimmered under the green glow. She looked up as Harry passed and gave him a slow smile.
"Morning, Harry," she said.
Her eyes didn't stop at his face, sliding lower to the stiff, deliberate set of his stride. Tracey's gaze followed, a flash of amusement curling her lips into an almost-smirk. "Looks like someone's… distracted," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.
Daphne didn't laugh, but her mouth curved in a knowing smile that somehow felt worse.
Harry swallowed. "Morning," he said, too quickly.
Daphne's voice lingered, low and amused. "You're up early."
His face burned. The pressure in his trousers had not gone down. If anything, it pulsed harder under their gaze.
"I wanted to ask you about—"
"Later," he muttered, turning away.
He walked, not ran, because running would only draw more attention. But his pace quickened. One hand pressed low in his pocket, fingers angled to hide the shape. Tracey's quiet laugh followed him as the entrance wall peeled open and let him out into the corridor.
The dungeons were dim and damp, the stones glistening faintly with underground moisture. He moved past empty classrooms, their iron-latched doors sealed shut. As he climbed out of the lower levels, Hogwarts began to warm with the first light of day. Golden sunlight streamed through the narrow windows between stone buttresses. The portraits were still half asleep, some muttering behind painted curtains.
The staircases shifted underfoot, old wood creaking on stone pivots. One turned slowly as he stepped onto it, taking him higher. With each movement, the stiff fabric rubbed against his skin, drawing a sharp breath through his teeth. The tip was wet now, dampening the inside of his trousers. He clenched his teeth, but the tension had not eased. His erection throbbed with stubborn, maddening heat.
He should have stayed in bed. Or gone to the bathroom. Or done anything other than walk the length of the castle with this ache still pulsing in his trousers.
It wasn't just morning stiffness. He knew that by now. His thoughts had been slipping places they shouldn't lately.
He clenched his jaw harder, trying not to think about her that way. It felt wrong.
Maybe she would know what to do. She always did. That was reason enough.
Even as he thought it, he felt the lie. This wasn't about help. This wasn't about a question. It was about the heat in his gut, and the way it refused to go away, and how the ache got worse every time he pictured her turning to look at him.
He didn't plan the route. His feet carried him without thinking.
His steps slowed as he neared the upper corridor.
Something told him what was about to happen was madness.
The brass nameplate at the end of the hall caught the sunlight. Professor L. Potter.
His pulse hammered so hard he thought she might hear it through the door. She was his mother. That fact alone should have stopped him. But the ache in his trousers pulsed with each heartbeat, and turning back meant walking past every portrait and corridor with it still there. He told himself she'd understand, that she'd help. The lie was almost comforting.
He hesitated, a tight coil of nerves winding in his belly. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't even sure what he would say or what he was asking for.
But walking back through the castle like this would be worse. Past portraits, students, and perhaps even Daphne and Tracey might still be in the common room, waiting to laugh.
He looked behind him. The hallway was empty.
His hand tightened into a fist. He stepped forward, reached the door, and knocked once.
A pause. Then her voice.
"Come in."
He eased the door open and stepped into a wash of warm light, the scent of parchment and rosewater drifting over him. The air seemed thicker here, holding a quiet warmth that made the room feel entirely hers. His pulse quickened before she even spoke.
The room was bright with morning light. Sun spilled in through tall arched windows that looked over the lawns sloping toward the Forbidden Forest. The lake glinted in the distance, blue and glassy. The walls were lined with tall wooden shelves full of potion vials, old texts, and neatly labeled ingredients. A desk sat near the window, parchment unfurled beside an inkpot. Lily stood behind it, wearing a simple dark green teaching robe over a fitted blouse and a long skirt, her red hair pinned loosely at her nape.
"Harry?" Her voice softened, her eyes lingering on his flushed face for a heartbeat before she went on. "You're up early… is something wrong?"
He closed the door behind him. "I… need to talk to you. Privately."
Her brow furrowed in concern. "Alright. Come sit."
She gestured to the chair, her quill set aside. Her gaze flicked down for just a heartbeat before returning to his face.
He sat down in the cushioned chair she kept beside the hearth, away from the desk, and looked at his knees.
"Something's wrong with me," he said, voice low. "I woke up and… I can't make it stop. It's been like this since I opened my eyes."
Her expression softened in understanding. "Oh, Harry. That's completely normal. Your body's changing. Sometimes that happens when you wake up, or even during the day. You can… touch yourself to help it. And one day, when you're older, a woman you love will take care of it for you."
He looked straight into her green eyes. "I already love someone."
She smiled faintly with a bit of a different tone than he was used to. "Who?"
"You," he said, without hesitation. "So… could you?"
His hand hovered, heart pounding. If she pulled away, he'd never ask again. But he didn't stop. He placed her hand in his lap.
Her smile faltered. "Harry—"
"I'm not asking anyone else," he said quietly but firmly.
Before she could speak again, he reached for her hand. Her skin was warm as he placed it in his lap, the heat of him seeping through the cloth. She hesitated just long enough for him to wonder if she would pull away, then her fingers curled slightly over the firm shape beneath.
A dozen reasons to pull away flashed through her mind and vanished just as quickly under the heavy throb against her palm.
"Harry…" she whispered, torn between the instinct to pull away and the sudden rush of heat low in her stomach.
He didn't let go.
Her pulse quickened. Slowly, she let her fingers wrap around him through the cloth. The heat seeped into her palm, the shape and firmness impossible to ignore. She eased open the front of his robes, the fabric catching faintly before her hand slipped inside. Her fingers found him quickly, closing around the heated length before drawing him into the light. He was hot and thick in her hand, already slick at the tip.
He was smaller than his late father, but bigger than she remembered, the hard heat of him filling her palm. She stroked gently, watching the way his breath caught, how his shoulders tensed.
Still stroking him, she lowered to her knees between his legs, the cold floor pressing through her robes.
From above, he watched the fall of her robes as they pooled on the floor around her, the crown of her head framed by the morning light. Her eyes tilted upward for a heartbeat, locking with his before she looked down again.
Her hand twitched. She could still say no. But the way he looked at her it stirred something buried in her that she didn't want to admit.
"You're so gifted for your age," she murmured. Her thumb brushed over the tip, gathering the bead of moisture there, spreading it down his length.
His eyes fluttered half-shut. "Feels… really good," he admitted, voice low.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" she said softly, her other hand resting on his thigh for balance. "It's meant to…"
He let out a slow breath, trying to stay still, but his hips began to lift in small, awkward pushes. The sight of him, his robes parted, cheeks flushed, trusting eyes, made it impossible for her to stop.
Her strokes became more confident, her hand sliding over him in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound of wet skin quiet but clear in the stillness of the room.
Each stroke made a slick, wet glide, his six inches hot and firm in her grip. Harry's breathing had gone uneven, his mouth parting slightly as he watched her hand work him. She could feel the pulse in him, the way he twitched when her thumb circled the head and spread the slick that was already leaking.
His robes hung open now, fabric pooling at his sides and baring his lap to the warm air.
"You belong to me, baby," she murmured, her tone low and certain.
He gave a small nod, his cheeks red. "I know, Mum."
She lowered her head, her breath warm against him, then let her lips close over the tip in a slow, deliberate seal that made his thighs tense.
Harry's breath caught in his throat, his thighs tensing, toes curling inside his shoes as every nerve in his body lit up. "Mum… something is coming…" His words faded into a shaky exhale.
The taste of him was warm and clean, with a faint saltiness that made her tongue explore him more eagerly. She let her tongue swirl over the ridge, drawing him deeper until the head pressed against the back of her mouth. Her hand worked the base as she sucked, hollowing her cheeks, taking him in and letting him slide out slick and glistening before sinking down again.
He shifted beneath her, hips giving small, tentative thrusts, almost testing how far he could go. "It feels… so much better," he admitted without thinking.
She looked up at him with a glint in her eyes. "That is because Mummy knows exactly how her boy likes it."
His blush deepened, but his voice was quick and earnest. "Yeah… you do."
Her own arousal was building. She let him slip free with a wet pop, pausing just long enough for her eyes to meet his flushed, wanting gaze.
Her chest rose and fell. She should stop. She knew she should. But the innocent and flushed look on his face made her thighs clench.
She rose from her knees, stepping over his legs with unhurried care. His eyes tracked her every move, the brush of her robe hem over his thighs making his breath quicken before she settled fully onto his lap.
Her robes parted as she moved, baring the creamy curve of her thighs and the slick, swollen folds between them.
"You want Mummy to make you feel even better?" she asked, her breath warm against his ear.
"Yes," he said immediately, almost pleading. "Please, Mum."
She reached down between them, wrapping her fingers around him and guiding the head to her entrance. It pressed into her heat, parting her folds as she sank down inch by inch, his gaze fixed on the point where their bodies joined until he was fully inside her.
His six inches filled her enough to make her sigh in long-lost pleasure, and she felt the stretch of him in every slow movement.
He looked up at her, green eyes wide and a little dazed. "It feels so warm and slippery inside."
"That warmth is for you, baby," she whispered. "Only for you."
She rode him slowly, hips gliding forward so his chest pressed against hers and her breasts brushed his face. "Touch them," she said softly.
His hands came up, cupping the heavy swell through her blouse. He rubbed her nipples with his thumbs, feeling them stiffen under the thin fabric. "They're so soft… and big," he murmured, almost in awe.
"They are for you to touch whenever you want from now on. They are your birthright," she told him.
Her pace quickened. She could feel his tension building, the way his thighs flexed beneath her. Then his cock pulsed, releasing in short, hot spurts deep inside her. She moaned at the heat, grinding down to keep him buried.
"Stay hard, baby. Mum's not finished yet," she breathed, moving faster, chasing her own pleasure.
Her nails bit lightly into his shoulders, the sound of her breathing breaking into ragged gasps. Each pulse inside her made the wet heat between them grow louder in the quiet room. She kept riding, the wet squelching sounds between them growing louder. The second release came with a tremor that ran up her spine, then another, until her legs were shaking and her body gave out. She collapsed forward against him, panting, sweat beading at her temple.
Her eyes closed for what felt like a moment, and when they opened, her skirt was bunched around her waist and Harry was already moving inside her, his hips rolling in a steady, instinctive rhythm that sent a warm pulse through her. His young face was focused, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.
"Mum… I can't stop," he murmured, voice low and urgent.
The look in her eyes turned molten, lips parting as if she'd been waiting for him to say it. Pride and hunger mingled there before she drew him down to her mouth.
Her hands slid up his back, pulling him down so his mouth brushed hers. "Then don't, baby. Mummy wants every drop you have left."
Harry groaned softly as the last few pulses spilled inside her. He stayed buried for a moment, his breathing uneven, before finally slipping free. His cock softened against her thigh, the wet heat between them making her shiver.
Lily brushed his messy hair back from his forehead, looking down at him with a mix of pride and something deeper. "You did so well for Mummy," she whispered.
He gave a small, shy smile. "Really?"
"Really," she said, kissing his temple. A possessive thought settled in her chest with absolute certainty. No other witch will ever take care of his needs. That is my job. With my training, he's going to be so good. One day, he'll be the most desired man in the entire wizarding world.
She shifted, guiding him to lie back for a moment. "Mummy wants to show you more. I am going to teach you how to make mum love you for the rest of your life."
His lips quirked. "Alright… what now?"
"First, we get you ready again," she said, sliding down his body. She licked him slowly from base to tip, tasting their combined release, her tongue curling around the head before taking him into her mouth. The warmth and slick suction made him twitch against her tongue. By the time she let him go, he was hard again.
"On your knees behind me," she told him, moving onto all fours and lifting her skirt over her hips. Her bubble-shaped ass was bare, round, and perfect in the morning light. She reached back, guiding him to her entrance.
The head of his cock slipped back into her heat, and he groaned at how wet and warm she still was.
"Harry," she said, glancing back over her shoulder, "I want you to spank me while you make love to me."
He blinked. "Like… you spank me?"
"Yes," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Just like that. Do it for Mummy."
He hesitated, then brought his hand down on her cheek with a sharp smack. She moaned, the sound raw and lewd, her hips pushing back into him. The noise alone made his cock throb inside her.
"Again," she breathed.
He spanked her again, the sharp crack ringing in the air. Heat bloomed under his palm, her flesh giving a quick tremor in response. Each slap made her moan louder, the sounds tumbling out of her without restraint.
"Oh, Harry… that makes Mummy cum," she gasped, her body tightening around him.
The wet squeeze of her climax pulled a groan from his chest. He kept thrusting, his hands gripping her hips now, spanking her in time with his movements.
Her moans turned into cries, the lewd pitch of them driving him harder. He felt the heat building fast, the tension winding tight in his stomach.
He gave her one last hard spank and pushed deep, spilling inside her again with a shudder. His release seemed to push her over the edge as she cried out, her body jerking as a hot gush sprayed from her, splashing down her thighs and onto the floor beneath them.
She kept squirting, wave after wave, until she sagged forward, panting, her body finally empty.
Harry stayed pressed to her back, still breathing hard, his hands stroking over her hips. "You… really liked that," he said, sounding almost amazed.
She turned her head enough to kiss his cheek. "Mummy loves everything you do to her. And whenever you feel like this, we can do it all over again."
Harry was still pressed to her back, his breathing slowing, when she shifted and sat up on her knees. Her blouse clung damply to her chest from sweat, and as she caught her breath, she felt a faint heaviness there. She glanced down and saw a thin bead of milk dampening the fabric over one nipple.
A low, warm smile touched her lips as she noticed a faint dampness blooming over her blouse. She pulled it open and unhooked her bra, letting her breasts spill free. A bead welled at her nipple and slid down the curve.
Harry's gaze followed its path, his throat working as he swallowed. The full, bare swell of her breasts held him as surely as her touch ever had.
Harry's eyes went wide. "Mum… are you…?"
She guided his head closer. "Yes. Mummy is giving milk now. You are not going to waste a drop. Drink, baby."
He swallowed and leaned in, lips wrapping around her nipple. The first pull was tentative, then firmer when the warm liquid filled his mouth. She cradled his head, stroking his messy hair.
"That is it," she murmured, her voice a mix of pride and arousal. "Drink it all for me. You are the only one who gets this."
When he pulled back for a breath, a trace of milk glistened on his lower lip. "It tastes… warm. Kind of sweet like you,"
She smiled. "It is for you. Always."
Her hand stroked over his hair, her gaze steady. "You must never tell anyone what we do. It will be our secret. Do you understand?"
He nodded quickly. "Yeah… I get it. I won't tell. Not even Daphne."
"Good boy," she said softly. "You can only do these things with witches who love you the way Mummy does. Do you know why?"
He thought for a moment. "Because… it means they really want me? Not just… using me?"
Her lips curved in approval. "Exactly. And there are not many who will love you like I do. But there are some." She let her voice drop lower, teasing. "I have seen the way Daphne looks at you. Even Tracey and Astoria… oh, she would ride you until you could not stand."
Harry flushed. "Mum…"
"Does thinking about them make you hard again?" she asked, watching his face.
He hesitated, then grinned sheepishly. "A little."
She kissed the top of his head. "That is good. Mummy will make sure you know exactly what to do with them if they ever earn it. But until then…" She pressed her nipple back to his lips. "Drink for me again."
He obeyed, sucking slowly this time, his hands cupping the heavy swell of her breasts as if they were already his.
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Thanks for sticking with the ride so far! 💋
The story is building toward a true harem path. Daphne, Tracey, Hermione, and even Mrs. Greengrass are planned additions. But first, Bellatrix takes the stage as she discovers Lily's little secret boy toy in the next chapter.
You can share your suggestions for any kinks in the comments.
Read Chapter 2 Morning Bliss Followed by Madness and 6,246 words ahead now on p*treon.c*m/OmniNymph or buy it from my K*-fi shop at k*-fi.c*m/omninymph.