He'd shagged Romilda a few times, more out of boredom than any real need, though the girl was as always a most eager and willing partner. Lilith had joined in the first time but not the second, begging off for a few hours to 'run a few errands in the south'. Harry took that to mean something in Little Whinging, perhaps maintaining her control over Petunia Dursley. Whatever it was, he decided he didn't care to know. He trusted the Succubus completely, and if she had business to attend to, he was sure it was at least mostly to his good.
Thinking about it made him debate ringing up Dudley for a chat, just to check in on his cousin. In the end, he decided instead to simply write a letter and mail it through the muggle post, properly. If nothing else, he grinned at the thought of making his cousin actually hand-write a letter in response. Or would Dudley be smart enough, now, to use a computer to type up a response, instead?
He'd also made a note to himself to see if there was a telephone line connected to the property. He couldn't recall seeing one in the house, but there were enough muggle appliances, including the telly in his bedroom and the massive projection television in the theater room that he was sure it could be done. If nothing else, it would make keeping some contact with Dudley a little easier.
Harry was, honestly, a bit bored by the time dinner had come and gone. He'd had more conversation at the meals than at any other point in the day. Without Ron badgering him to play chess, or Hermione badgering him about homework (and he'd already started on that by four in the afternoon!), or a bevy of beautiful young women to shag, well...
What else was a young man to do with his time?
He debated going for a fly, but wasn't sure the property was properly warded. Tracking down Fleur and waking her up seemed rude in the afternoon, and Lilith had been out of range to communicate with over their Bond for most of the afternoon. Hermione, even with her Mage Sight, claimed that she wasn't familiar enough with the enchantments to tell when he'd worked up the courage to interrupt her time with her parents.
Which... really just left Pansy to entertain him. Not that she was a last resort, by any means, but he eventually tracked down the dark-haired girl in the room she had chosen for her own on the top floor. His bedroom was on the East side of the house, above the porch and entryway, while hers was around the corner from one of the still-unchosen bedrooms there, the first of three down the northern hallway.
She was laying sideways on her bed with her head propped up on one arm while she read some thick tome with crisp white pages. Her shoulder-length black hair was held back in a tail that rose up and out from the right a few inches, no doubt to keep as much as she could off her neck in the warm room. Her outfit was simple, but showed her increasing penchant for wearing muggle clothing that he'd noticed on their first actual date in the Three Broomsticks. A simple t-shirt, possibly borrowed from Hermione though it fit her well with their similar builds and bust size, of plain white with a barely-visible black bra beneath it on top, with a pair of white denim shorts that did a fine job of showing her luscious, pale thighs. Short, ankle-length socks once again displayed a football team, this time one Harry recognized on sight: Manchester United.
The sight made him smile, and not just because he quite enjoyed shagging the girl. Pansy had become a delight just to talk to, as well, and seeing her putting an effort into learning more about the muggle world was fun to see. He imagined it as something like a second-world citizen coming to the U.K. as an exchange student, and experiencing all the wonder and culture shock they could... and loving it.
She didn't seem to have noticed him, for Pansy turned another page without looking up or greeting him as he stood in the doorway. Was it creepy of him, to simply watch a girl he cared for reading for a bit? Harry decided he didn't care. The evening was young yet, everyone in the house was awake. Even though he barely even knew the Grangers, he had spent several hours driving with them, had shagged Hermione's mother almost a year ago, and had a rather emotional few conversations with her father. That meant he could feel them, too.
Harry wasn't sure if it was because of Hermione's own bond with them (which was strong, he knew, what had possibly led to her Daddy fetish, if it truly was one), or because his empathic abilities were just growing that much stronger. Either way, he knew where they were, and that both were awake. Talking, if he had to guess, though about what he couldn't be sure. They were also almost directly below Pansy in one of the guest rooms a floor below, though he couldn't hear anything. The house was, he knew from Lilith's tour, exceptionally well sound-proofed due to what she expected of his life going forward. Children, frankly, didn't need to hear people going at it constantly.
Pansy, though... she was randy. Not overly so, but she was definitely thinking naughty thoughts. About him... about Ron. About Lavender... that was interesting. How much the other girl had relished in being Harry's Pet the night before, and how much she had enjoyed showing that off for everyone. Not just arousal, but... jealousy? Yes... that's what it was. Pansy had enjoyed it too, he knew that full well. Apparently, not quite as much, though.