Chapter 33 - chapter 32

This chapter has some R-18

Chapter 32 (~14 words):

– Harry –

I groaned as I woke up before the sun was even up, every muscle in my body pleasantly sore in all the right ways. It felt like I'd run a marathon and then spent hours fucking on top of it—which, to be fair, wasn't that far from the truth.

I blinked my eyes open and let them adjust, then turned my head to the side.

Tonks was sprawled naked beside me, face relaxed in sleep, lips parted just slightly. Her hair had settled into a messy, pale pink bob, strands sticking adorably to her forehead. Her entire body was a map of what we'd done last night.

Dried cum streaked across her soft stomach and up over one of her tits in a messy line, flaking slightly against her skin. Purple and reddish hickies dotted her throat, her collarbones, and the tops of her breasts. I could see the faint outline of my teeth in at least two of them. There were more marks on her hips and thighs where I'd gripped her hard enough to bruise when she clenched down around my cock.

I let my gaze travel lower. Her legs were tangled with mine under the sheets. When I carefully lifted the edge, I saw more of my dried release on the inside of her thighs and all over the trimmed pink hair above her pussy, matted from how many times we'd gone at it. Her folds were still faintly swollen, puffy from being stretched and used for hours.

I'd definitely awakened something in her.

I lay there for a moment, just taking her in, replaying flashes of last night in my head. Her riding me with that wild, hungry look in her eyes. Her hair constantly shifting color—pink, purple, blue, back to black—whenever I hit a good spot. Her body reshaping under my hands when she got brave enough to really use her Metamorphmagus powers.

And then the part that had surprised me the most:

"Harry… please… lemme make it up to you…My mom shouldn't have tried to hurt you after you brought me back to life." she'd begged as she straddled me again.

I remembered my hands on her hips, my cock already sliding back into her slick heat, when her features had started shifting. Her jawline softened, cheekbones sharpened just a bit, her hair lengthened and darkened, cascading down past her shoulders into familiar, glossy brown. Her eyes shifted from bright, vivid pink to warm brown. Her tits shrank slightly, but not by much—Andromeda was stacked too.

Suddenly, I wasn't looking up at Tonks anymore.

I'd been staring at Andromeda Tonks–Black's face. Older, mature, gorgeous. The same woman who was currently helping handle Narcissa's divorce and legal mess. The woman who'd quietly stood up to the Black family and walked away from their bullshit. The mother Tonks adored and felt guilty about, tangled up in all this devils-and-peerage insanity because of me.

She'd looked down at me through those brown eyes, cheeks flushed, lips trembling.

"My lord," she'd said in her mother's voice, kneeling between my legs on the mattress, hands sliding up my thighs as she stared up at me through Andromeda's eyes. "I've been such a stupid, ungrateful woman. Please… let me make it up to you. Let me apologize properly for all those curses…"

Then she'd wrapped Andromeda's lips around my cock and moaned like she meant it.

I'd been torn for about half a second between "this is so wrong" and "this is the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen." Lust had won. 

Tonks stirred beside me, letting out a soft, contented sound. Her lashes fluttered, then those bright pink eyes opened, sleepy at first before awareness kicked in. She glanced down at herself, saw the dried cum, the bite marks, the faint bruises on her thighs, and then looked up at me.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across her face.

"Well," she croaked, voice still rough from all the screaming and moaning last night. "Someone absolutely wrecked me…"

I snorted. "Pretty sure you did most of the wrecking yourself. I'm the one who's sore."

I shifted slightly and winced as my hips protested. My abs, thighs, and lower back all ached in that good, "we fucked until we literally couldn't anymore" way. My cock was sensitive, but still half-hard just from being close to her.

Tonks's gaze dipped immediately under the sheet, and her grin went feral.

"Mm. Still got some life in him, though," she murmured, reaching under the covers and curling her fingers around my shaft.

I hissed softly through my teeth. "Careful, he's in recovery. You tried to murder him last night."

"Oh please," she snorted, but her hand slowed, her strokes turning more gentle as she lazily pumped my length. "You loved every second of it. Don't even try to lie, mister 'fuck me harder, Tonks, I can take it.'"

"That doesn't sound like me at all," I said solemnly. "I am a dignified devil prince."

She barked out a laugh, hair flashing bright electric blue for a second before settling back to pink.

"Uh-huh," she drawled. "Dignified devil prince who came in me so many times I'm pretty sure I'm marinating in Sitri spunk."

I glanced down at the drying mess on her stomach and thighs and shrugged. "You started it."

"Yeah," she admitted, smirking, then her expression shifted. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. Her hand around my cock loosened a little.

Her eyes rose slowly to meet mine. "So… um… about last night," she said, suddenly a lot less cocky. "Especially the part where I, uh…" She swallowed. Her hair faded to a softer, nervous pink. "Turned into Mum."

There it was. I exhaled slowly and moved my hand from the sheet to her cheek, brushing my thumb along her jaw to make her look at me properly.

"Tonks," I said quietly. "Hey. Look at me."

She forced her gaze back up to mine, eyes wide, cheeks flushed for a very different reason now.

"If you're about to freak out and apologize or think I'm angry about it," I told her bluntly, "I'm not."

Her brows drew together. "You're… not?"

I snorted. "I'd be a hypocrite if I was. You're a Metamorphmagus, you're a fucking devil now, and we're both adults. Using your powers in bed isn't some horrible line you crossed. It was hot." I leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, then her neck, letting my lips brush over one of the hickies there. "Really hot. I hope you do it more often, if you want to. But I also think you're really beautiful just the way you are too!"

Tonks relaxed when I said that, her shoulders dropping and the tension bleeding out of her face. Her hair shifted from that anxious pale pink back to a smug neon purple for a second, then settled into its usual bubblegum shade. She mumbled something like, "Good, 'cause I really liked it too…" and then her eyes actually started to flutter again.

I could tell she was dead tired. That made sense. We'd gone for way too many rounds, and she'd hit the "limp and overstimulated" stage more than once. Devil stamina or not, her body still needed rest.

"Go back to sleep," I told her. I brushed a knuckle gently across her cheek. "You earned it."

She made a pleased little hum at that, rolled over onto her stomach, and buried her face in my pillow. Her bare ass stuck up for a second, spotted with faint bite marks and finger-shaped bruises, before she dragged the blanket up and over herself. Within a minute, her breathing evened out and she was out cold again.

I slipped out of bed carefully so I didn't jostle her. My legs were a bit sore, my hips ached, and my cock gave a tired, sensitive twitch as it swayed in the cool air. I grabbed fresh clothes from the trunk at the end of the bed and padded into the bathroom.

…The Gryffindor common room was almost completely empty. The fire had burned down to a low, comforting glow. The enchanted lanterns on the walls were dimmed, in that pre-dawn "we're not fully awake yet either" mode. Most of the couches were empty, blankets tossed messily where people had fallen asleep over homework the night before. The air felt cool and still.

There was only one person awake.

Jasmine McKinnon-Potter sat curled up on one of the big couches near the fireplace, legs tucked under her, a blanket draped over her knees. She was reading a book, holding it up close to her face. Her messy brown hair stuck out in every direction like she'd just run her hands through it a dozen times. Her glasses reflected the flickering light from the fire, little amber glints flashing on the lenses.

She looked up as she heard me come down the last step. Her eyes went wide for a second, then she gave me a shy smile. Her cheeks pinked up immediately.

"G-Good morning, Harry," she said softly, closing her book on one finger to keep her place.

"Morning, Jasmine," I replied, walking over to her. My voice came out a little rough from sleep and overuse. I rolled my shoulders, working out some stiffness, then leaned over the back of the couch. "You couldn't sleep either?"

She scrunched her nose up a bit and shook her head, the motion making her hair bounce. "Sometimes Lavender snores," she admitted in a conspiratorial tone. "And when she really gets going, it sounds like… like a drowning Hippogriff trying to clear its throat."

That mental image was so specific and so accurate that I burst out laughing. Not just a little huff—an actual laugh that made my ribs twinge.

"Oh, that's mean," I said, grinning. "Now I'm never going to be able to un-hear that."

Jasmine smiled wider, clearly proud of herself. Then she quickly added, "Don't tell her I said that, though. She'd be absolutely mortified. And then she'd hex me, and then Parvati would join in, and then both of them would cry about how they're bad roommates, and then I'd feel guilty…" She trailed off, realizing she'd started to ramble. Her blush strengthened. She cleared her throat and glanced away. "So yes. Sometimes Lavender snores. That's all."

"Your secret's safe with me," I said, raising a hand like I was swearing an oath. "I won't snitch on you to the snorer."

She giggled quietly and shook her head, then tilted her head slightly as she looked me up and down. "What about you?" she asked. "You look… awake-awake. Not just 'couldn't fall back asleep' awake." She paused. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

I walked around the couch and dropped down into the spot next to her. The springs shifted slightly under our combined weight. I stretched my legs out and slouched back, hands resting on my thighs for a second while I thought about how honest I wanted to be.

"Yeah, I slept," I answered casually. "Just not for very long. I was up most of the night with one of my harem members." I said it bluntly on purpose.

Her cheeks exploded into deeper color almost instantly. Her eyes flicked down at my chest and then away again like her brain was trying to process that sentence and not quite sure what to do with it. She shifted where she sat, tugging her blanket up a little higher over her lap as if it could hide her reaction.

"O-Oh," she squeaked, pushing her glasses up her nose with two fingers. "Right. That would, um… explain it."

I shrugged. "At that point I figured, I'm already up, sun's not, might as well stay awake and start the day rather than try to steal another hour and feel worse afterwards."

She nodded slowly, then laughed quietly under her breath. "You're crazy," she said, but there was no judgment in her tone. "If I don't get at least seven hours, my brain stops working and I start mispronouncing my own name."

"I'm sure you're more resilient than you think. You're a brilliant beautiful witch after all," I told the girl who might have been my sister in another life.

She ducked her head at that, smiling down at the book still in her hands. Her fingers started fiddling with the edge of the blanket, twisting it absently.

There was a small, awkward pause. Not uncomfortable, just… hovering. Like she wanted to say something else but was debating it. Then she looked back up at me. Her expression was shy but determined. "If you're already awake," she said quietly, "and I'm already awake… maybe we could… take a walk? Around the castle?" She hesitated halfway through the sentence like she wasn't sure if she should finish it. "If you want, I mean. We don't have to. I just…" She gestured vaguely toward the window where the sky was still dark. "It's kind of nice being up before everyone else. It's quiet."

I pushed myself up from the couch. "Yeah," I said, giving her a small smile. "A walk sounds good."

Her whole face lit up. It was subtle—her smile didn't get huge, but it softened and brightened at the same time. Her shoulders relaxed, and some of that anxious energy dropped.

I made sure I didn't just vanish from the common room without leaving Lyra and Lyna a note. My beautiful twin pawn maids usually woke up around sunrise.

Lyra / Lyna,

I woke up early and went for a walk around the castle with Jasmine. I'm fine. Don't panic or start hunting for any assassins again. I'll be back before breakfast.

– Harry

Once that was done, I slipped out of the room, down through the common room, and linked up with Jasmine. We spent the next hour just…walking.

It was nice.

We didn't have a destination in mind. We just wandered. We went up flights of stairs and down them again, cut across quiet, empty corridors, and peeked into classrooms that were still dark and deserted. A couple of times, we ran into a suit of armor or a portrait that tried to start a conversation, but we ignored them and kept going. The castle always had something to say, it was rare to find someone who wanted to just listen to you instead.

Outside, the air had that specific early-morning chill that October liked to bring. The sky was that deep, pre-dawn blue that hadn't quite decided if it wanted to be night or day yet. The grounds were mostly empty. Hagrid's hut had a faint candlelight glow inside, and the lake was calm and flat, reflecting a darker version of the sky.

Jasmine walked close to me the whole time. Not clinging like Fleur and Gabrielle did, but close enough that her sleeve brushed mine every couple of seconds. Sometimes our shoulders bumped lightly as we walked, and every time they did, she would look down at the ground and smile in that shy way of hers.

She talked a lot about her mother. Once she got going, it all came pouring out.

Step by step, we moved along the edge of the courtyard, then down toward the stone bridge, and she told me everything. How her mum had always tried to balance being strict and being kind. How she checked Jasmine's essays three times and still told her they were "good but could be better." 

"I know she only does it because she loves me," Jasmine said, tugging her blanket tighter around herself as we cut along the side path toward the greenhouses. Her voice had that soft, fond tone people used when they were complaining and bragging at the same time. "But sometimes I feel like I'm disappointing her even when I'm not. Like if I'm not the absolute best at something, she thinks I'm not trying hard enough. She always brings up her best friend Lily Evans—she called her the smartest witch she ever knew, but I'm not a fan of always being compared to her. Especially since mom betrayed her best friend and fucked Lily's fiance…" Jasmine trailed off and then winced. "...Sorry," she finished.

I just shook my head and chuckled. "Honestly, it's fine. You know I don't care about any of that." We passed under a stone arch and started circling back toward the main courtyard. I watched our breath come out in pale puffs in front of us. I started telling her about my own living mum Serafall.

I kept the really lewd Serafall stories to myself, obviously. 

By the time we finally circled back to one of the inner courtyards, the horizon was starting to lighten. The sky had shifted from inky blue to something paler, streaked with faint hints of purple and orange. The chilly October air nipped at our faces and hands, but the castle walls shielded us a little from the wind.

We found a stone bench tucked against one side of the courtyard, beneath a window with long, narrow panes. I sat down first, the cold stone biting through my trousers immediately. Jasmine hesitated for half a second, then sat down right next to me. Not a polite gap away—right next to me. Our thighs touched.

The cold made itself known in the next thirty seconds. I could feel Jasmine shiver once, then again. She tugged the blanket she'd brought around her shoulders, but her fingers looked pale at the tips, and I could see goosebumps forming along the side of her neck and just under the collar of her uniform.

Without overthinking it, I lifted my right arm and set it very deliberately across the back of the bench behind her. Then I slid it down and around her, pulling her gently but firmly into my side.

She stiffened for a split second, surprised, and then melted into me like she'd been waiting for exactly that. She tucked herself in, folding her legs up a little and leaning her weight fully against me. Her head rested just below my shoulder, beside my chest, and I could feel the faint, steady rise and fall of her breathing against my ribs.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yes," she said quietly, almost on an exhale. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and from being this close. "Much."

I let my hand rest on her upper arm, fingers spread lightly over the fabric of her robe. I didn't grope, didn't wander. I just held her and let the Sitri warmth bleed into her. Devils ran hotter than humans by default, and I didn't mind using that as an excuse.

For a few minutes, we just sat there like that. Jasmine didn't talk. She stared straight ahead at the open courtyard as the sky slowly brightened, eyes half-lidded behind her glasses. I could feel her relaxing more with each passing minute, tension seeping out of her shoulders as the chill eased and the quiet morning wrapped around us.

Footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path behind the bench.

It wasn't the heavy stride of a professor or the shuffling drag of a tired first-year. It was light, confident, and steady—someone who was fully awake and not freezing to death.

I turned my head over my shoulder toward the sound.

Lilja was walking toward us from one of the archways, framed by the soft, early morning light. The sun wasn't fully over the horizon yet, but there was enough glow to catch the edges of her hair. Every strand of that vibrant red caught a bit of the light and seemed to burn like actual embers. She wore her Hogwarts uniform—Slytherin colors, neat and crisp—and somehow managed to make it look like expensive formalwear. Her robe fit her perfectly, the black fabric hugging her hips and chest in just the right ways. Her emerald-green tie matched her eyes almost exactly.

She spotted me immediately. Her lips curved up into a warm smile that softened her whole face. Her eyes flicked briefly down to where Jasmine was tucked against me, and then back up again.

Jasmine noticed her footsteps too. I felt Jasmine stiffen very slightly at my side, the way a cat does when someone new walks into the room. She didn't move away from me, but her fingers tightened on the blanket in her lap. The corner of her mouth dipped into the smallest little pout.

"Good morning," Lilja said as she stopped a few steps in front of the bench. Her voice was calm and even, but there was a little pleased lilt to it when she looked at me. "You're up early, Harry."

"Morning," I said, smiling back at her. "Yeah. I couldn't sleep much. Figured I'd make the most of it. Jasmine had the same idea."

Lilja's gaze shifted fully to Jasmine now, taking her in. I watched the way she studied her—step by step, detail by detail. Messy brown hair, slightly crooked glasses, blanket pulled around her shoulders, pressed firmly into my side. It wasn't a hostile look. 

It was more like an evaluation. Who are you, and how much do you matter to him?

"And who is this?" Lilja asked, tilting her head slightly. Her tone was polite and curious, but I didn't miss the way her eyes sharpened just a fraction.

Jasmine reacted instantly. She straightened up a bit against me but didn't actually pull away. Her shoulder was still firmly pressed against my ribs, and I left my arm where it was around her. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her words came out a little too fast, like she was trying very hard to sound casual and not at all threatened.

"I'm Jasmine McKinnon," she said. "I'm in Gryffindor. Fifth year." She pushed her glasses up with one finger and added quickly, "And I'm a FRIEND of Harry's." The "friend" part came out a tiny bit too loud. 

That little extra emphasis made my mouth twitch with a grin.

Lilja's eyes flicked between us once, and then her gaze sharpened. "McKinnon…?" she repeated quietly. Her voice went softer for half a heartbeat, like the name knocked something loose inside her. Then her eyes widened. "Is your mother Marlene McKinnon?"

The way she said Marlene's name made both Jasmine and me freeze.

It wasn't some random "oh, I've heard that name before" tone. It was personal. Familiar. Lilja sounded like someone had just yanked her straight back into a memory she hadn't expected to confront.

Jasmine stiffened against me and sat up straighter, blanket shifting in her lap. "Do you… know my mum?" she asked carefully. Her fingers tightened on the wool. "Like… know her, know her?"

I turned my head and looked at Lilja too, properly now. Her emerald eyes weren't distant—they were focused and sharp, but there was something else in them. Nostalgia? Pain? Guilt? It was a weird mix, and it didn't match any of the polite Slytherin transfer-student masks she'd been wearing so far.

How the hell did a Valkyrie from Asgard know Jasmine's mom, of all people? I guess Marlene was a member of the Dumbledore's order of the Phoenix, but if the Norse had been part of that, Voldemort would have been slapped before his evil regime could have gotten off the ground.

Lilja's mouth opened, then snapped shut again. She actually sputtered for a second, which was honestly kind of adorable for a woman normally so composed. Her gaze dropped to the stone beneath our feet, jaw clenching once as she visibly fought with herself. "That's… not important right now," she said finally, shaking her head a fraction too fast. "It's… complicated."

That wasn't an answer. Not even close. And the way she dodged it just made me more suspicious. 

"If you say so," Jasmine replied. Her tone was light, but the defensive edge underneath was obvious. She adjusted her glasses with two fingers and glanced between me and Lilja like she'd suddenly remembered her position on the bench and how close she still was to me. "I should probably head back to the common room," she said after a beat. "Make sure Lavender and Parvati actually wake up in time for breakfast. If they miss another morning, McGonagall's going to lecture all three of us just on principle." She shifted like she was about to stand, then hesitated. I watched the indecision flicker across her face—eyes dropping to my shoulder, then to Lilja, then back again.

Then she went for it. Jasmine leaned up, turned her head, and pressed a quick but unmistakable kiss to my cheek. 

Right there. Right in front of Lilja.

Her lips were soft and warm, and I felt the heat shoot straight up into my ear. By the time she pulled back, her cheeks were bright pink, but her eyes were smug as hell.

"See you later, Harry," she said, much more confidently now. Her smile turned just a little wicked as she flicked a glance at Lilja, like she was very deliberately staking her tiny little Gryffindor flag in me. Then she gathered her blanket around her shoulders, hopped off the bench, and scampered back toward the castle.

I watched her go, amused and a little impressed, then turned back just in time to catch Lilja's expression.

She looked… flustered.

She was staring at the spot on my cheek Jasmine had kissed like it had personally insulted her. "She's James Potter's daughter as well, isn't she?" Lilja asked suddenly. Her voice was soft, but there was that same loaded tone she'd used with Marlene's name.

I frowned at that. She knew James's name too? Then again, a lot of people thought he was the "father of the boy-who-lived" for almost two decades at this point.

"Yeah," I said slowly. 

Lilja's eyes shuttered for half a second. Something tight flashed in her gaze—guilt again, maybe—but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. "I see," she murmured. "Is that so…" Her voice went distant on the last part, like she'd slipped halfway into some old memory again. Then she gave a tiny shake of her head, pushing it away. "Never mind. Don't worry about it."

I narrowed my eyes at her a bit, but kept my tone casual. "Starting to feel like there's a lot you're telling me not to worry about, Lilja."

She huffed out a tiny laugh at that. "Yes, well. I suppose there is."

I blew out a breath and decided not to press. "So," I said instead, shifting slightly on the bench and leaning my forearms on my knees. "You came out here at this ungodly hour to look for me, or was I just a happy coincidence?"

Lilja shook her head. "I wasn't expecting to find you here," she admitted. "I usually like walking early in the morning when the castle is quiet. I didn't mean to interrupt your—whatever THAT was with that girl…"

"A walk? Or a mini date?" I shrugged at Lilja, not really knowing which it was. But Jasmine did kiss me so I leaned closer towards the latter.

Two familiar presences pricked at the edge of my demonic senses before the sound even reached us. 

"She's here for us," two voices announced in near-perfect unison.

I turned my head toward the nearest archway. Rias and Sona walked into the courtyard.

Rias's long crimson hair tumbled over her shoulders, catching the early morning light and glinting like silk. Her Hufflepuff robes were technically standard uniform, but on her they might as well have been tailored formalwear. She had that little smug smile on her face, the one that said she already knew she was about to cause trouble and was going to enjoy every second of it.

Sona was her opposite in appearance—dark hair cut in its sharp, neat bob, pristine Ravenclaw robes pressed and straight, tie perfectly centered. Her expression was composed and serious, but the faint flush dusting her cheeks blew her cool act just enough for me to catch it.

"...What's this about?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I didn't move from the bench, but I shifted slightly so I was more squarely facing them. My tone was somewhere between curious and wary. Experience told me when those two teamed up, something was about to happen and I was rarely fully in control of it.

Rias giggled, lifting her hand to cover her mouth in that cutesy "ara ara" way Akeno usually did. "We're here for an interrogation," she announced cheerfully. "A very serious and threatening interrogation of the Norse spy." She said it like she was quoting something. "I've always wanted to do this," she added, eyes sparkling. "Just like in some of my favorite yakuza anime. Walk in, corner the informant, lean in close and say, 'You came to the wrong turf, sweetheart!'"

Sona groaned softly under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose behind her glasses. "Rias," she muttered, "we are not yakuza."

"Not with that attitude, we aren't!" Rias shot back immediately.

Lilja just rolled her eyes at both of them, crossing her arms under her chest. The pose was defensive, but also did absolutely criminal things to the view. "You two really don't need to 'threaten and interrogate' me," she said dryly. "You could have just asked for a conversation."

"You're a Valkyrie from Asgard who enrolled in Hogwarts under a flimsy Muggle-born transfer cover and just so happened to attach yourself to Harry," Sona said in her calm, Council-President voice as she walked closer, heels clicking on the stone. "There will be questions."

I stood up from the bench to avoid making Lilja feel like she was cornered while sitting. I moved so I was between her and the archway, but not blocking her escape outright. I knew damn well Sona and Rias were not actually going to hurt her, but Lilja didn't know that yet. 

"You two don't have to do that," I said, giving both of them a look. "Seriously. She just helped me fight off a bunch of centaurs. She's not hostile."

"And I appreciated that," Sona said, eyes flicking briefly to me, softening just a fraction before they went sharp again. "But that doesn't explain who she's reporting to. Or why she's here. Or how she personally knows names like 'James Potter' and 'Marlene McKinnon.'"

….

I was not pouting as I walked back through the halls of Hogwarts.

…Okay, maybe I was pouting a little.

"You're too emotionally compromised, Harry," Sona had said with that calm, authoritative tone that always made me want to argue just for the sake of it.

"Translation," Rias had added, grinning, "you're way too weak to sexy redheads to be present for this interrogation."

I'd tried to protest. They'd both just stared at me. Matching expressions. Matching crossed arms. Matching "we love you but no" energy. And, annoyingly, they were right.

I was emotionally compromised when it came to Lilja. I liked her. A lot. Too much, too fast. If they pressed her and she looked even slightly hurt or upset, I'd probably step in on reflex. Which would ruin the entire point of them trying to figure out who she really was and what she wanted.

Didn't mean I had to enjoy being sidelined. So I walked. Step by step, through the cool stone corridors, doing that thing where you stare too hard at tapestries you've already seen a hundred times just so you don't think too much.

By the time I made it back up to the Gryffindor common room, the castle was finally starting to wake up.

A few early risers were already shuffling around the room in that half-dead way people moved before breakfast. Someone yawned so loudly it cracked halfway into a dying-animal noise. A couple of third-years were sitting at a table with their heads literally on top of their books, pretending they were "reviewing" when they were clearly trying not to fall back asleep.

Right in the middle of that sleepy chaos stood my twin maids like they owned the place.

Lyra and Lyna were already dressed in their usual slutty maid uniforms—tight black bodices, low necklines that made their identical big tits look like they were seconds away from bursting out, and short skirts with frilly white hems that barely covered their asses when they bent over. They looked completely awake, completely put together, and completely smug.

Morning people…

They had somehow acquired a teapot and a full tea set, probably charmed it out of the kitchens or bullied some poor house-elf into lending it to them. Lyra was pouring with this graceful, practiced motion like she'd been born doing it. Lyna was moving between couches and chairs, handing steaming cups to anyone they liked and pretending not to see the way half the room couldn't stop staring at their boobs.

I spotted Hermione too. She was curled up on one of the bigger couches by the fire, one leg tucked under her, the other dangling. She had a blanket draped over her lap and a thick book propped open in one hand, already halfway through a chapter. 

Lyna came up behind her and handed a cup of tea over the back of the couch with a cheerful, "Here you go, Lady Hermione. Extra strong, just like you like it."

Hermione took the cup automatically with her free hand and murmured, "Thank you, Lyna," without looking away from her page. Total reflex. You'd think adorable devil maids in scandalous uniforms delivering tea at dawn was completely normal for her now.

I walked over to them, and both twins lit up when they saw me.

"Good morning, Young Master!" Lyra chirped. Her tits bounced dangerously when she turned toward me with the pot. She tilted it in my direction with a knowing smile. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," I said. I wasn't stupid. Never say no to maids with tea. I held my cup out and Lyra poured, steady and precise, not spilling a drop. "Thanks," I told her, then moved around the sofa and dropped down onto the empty cushion right beside Hermione.

I didn't say anything. I just sat there, set my tea down on the little table next to me, and leaned sideways until my head rested on Hermione's shoulder. She just paused for half a second, smiled this tiny little smile I only ever saw when she was genuinely happy, shifted her shoulder just a bit to make it more comfortable for me, and then kept reading like nothing unusual had happened.

That was the thing about Hermione. She didn't need big gestures. Just being there was enough.

The room slowly filled up around us as more and more Gryffindors dragged themselves out of bed and down the stairs. Someone tripped coming off the last step and blamed the stairs. A few people were loudly debating whether breakfast was worth getting up for when you could technically just go back to sleep and skip Transfiguration "this one time."

The peaceful morning scene lasted all of five minutes. My door at the back of the common room clicked open and Tonks walked out.

Well—"walked" was generous. She stumbled out, one hand on the doorframe, the other braced on the wall as she pulled it shut behind her. She was freshly showered. Her face was flushed in that very specific "I got absolutely railed all night" way—pink cheeks, slightly swollen lips, the kind of glow makeup couldn't fake. She was wearing her assistant-teacher outfit. Fitted black trousers, boots, and a white button-up shirt under her robes. Except the shirt wasn't buttoned quite right. The top button was undone, maybe the second, maybe the third—it was hard to tell—but either way, there was enough of a gap that every wizard in the room instantly clocked she wasn't wearing a bra.

Her legs did that little "catching myself from wobbling" move twice before she made it to the middle of the room.

You could literally feel the rumors start forming.

"Wait, isn't that Professor Black's assistant?"

"Was she in Harry Sitri's room?"

"Was she in there all night?"

I heard one whisper clearly from somewhere behind me. "Didn't she used to be an Auror? Did she quit her job just to be with him?"

Another voice answered immediately, half awed, half jealous, "If he was fucking me like that, I'd quit my job too!"

I wanted to complain that everyone just assumed everything was about sex with me.

...Then I remembered Tonks barely being able to stand and decided they weren't exactly wrong.

Fred and George appeared like they'd been summoned by gossip. They materialized from opposite sides of the room and ended up flanking Tonks as she made her way toward the fire.

Fred put an arm dramatically around her shoulders, grinning like he'd just found the gossip of the year. "Nymphadora Tonks," he said loudly enough for anyone pretending not to eavesdrop, "you are looking absolutely radiant this morning."

George nodded, clasping his hands together in mock reverence. "Yes, there's a certain… glow about you. Almost as if," he added thoughtfully, "you were kept up all night by a particularly vigorous young man that can never stop generating scandalous rumors when it comes to our house!"

Tonks just rolled her eyes, shoved Fred's arm off her shoulders with more force than her shaky legs suggested she should have, and snorted. "Instead of spreading more rumors, maybe you two should practise so you can make your girlfriend limp like I do one day…"

"...Burn…" Someone whispered.

Fred and George actually looked completely silent and stumped for once. At least until their girlfriend Angelina came down from the woman's side of the dorms and dragged them out for an early breakfast.

"Yeah! You two do need to get better! I would love to be limping like that every morning—" Angelina whined at her boyfriends before the fat lady's portrait shut behind them…

Tonks just chuckled before her eyes landed on me and she pouted. "Aw, you weren't next to me when I woke up a second time this morning!" she said loudly, on purpose no doubt.

"Whoa! He really is shagging an assistant teacher!"

"Did you see how she's walking?"

"Merlin, Sitri doesn't miss!"

"Oi," someone muttered, "leave some women for the rest of us."

Tonks ignored all of it, completely and intentionally. She shuffled her way over to Lyra and Lyna with stubborn determination. "Please," she groaned dramatically, slumping into the nearest armchair they were hovering by. "For the love of all that is magical, tell me you two sweet, beautiful creatures have tea left. I need ALL THE CAFFEINE!"

Lyra straightened up proudly, lifting the teapot like it was a valuable demonic artifact. "Of course we do, Tonks-sensei," she said with a bright smile.

Tonks squinted one eye at her. "Sensei?" she repeated.

Lyna giggled. "You're a teacher now~" she sing-songed, leaning forward so far her breasts almost fully bounced out of her neckline as she reached for an extra cup.

"Hehe—Tonk's-sensei! I like it!"

I couldn't help but find myself grinning. My peerage was all around me—mostly. Sure, Narcissa wasn't here with us—if she came strolling out of my bedroom in the morning too, that really would start some unmanageable rumors…

Still, this was very nice.

….

The following week at Hogwarts was surprisingly normal—well, at least what passed for normal in my crazy life now. Classes were still classes, and I went dutifully, though most of the time was spent half-listening while I covertly flirted or outright teased one of my girls under the desks. I made sure to keep my grades up though, mostly by studying late into the evenings in my private room or grabbing a helpful tutoring session from Hermione, who always looked simultaneously annoyed and thrilled whenever I needed her tutoring.

Outside of class, I devoted myself fully to my ever-growing personal life. Dates were abundant. My public, blatantly affectionate strolls through Hogwarts grounds or trips to Hogsmeade with my official fiance Rias drew constant whispers, stares, and giggles. Rias loved the attention, linking her arm through mine proudly as she waved cheerfully at our audience like a visiting princess. 

Then there were the secret rendezvous with Sona. Those dates were subtler, hidden away of course to avoid more human rumors.

Jasmine and Ginny got some of my time too—usually spent lounging together lazily in the Gryffindor common room, chatting about magic or our lives. Ginny, my newly contracted witch, was still adjusting to her bond with me and the increase in her magical power. Jasmine, meanwhile, grew bolder and more openly affectionate each day, kissing my cheek publicly, leaning comfortably against me, and shooting smug, victorious looks at any other witch who stared too long. 

I did also try to spend some time with Daphne and Tracy, but for some reason I also wasn't yet aware of, those two girls had gone from wanting to do everything they could to join my clique—to suddenly completely avoiding me outside of class…

Then there was Lilja. And I was glad that Rias and Sona didn't kick her out of the castle. Not that they actually had the power to do that—since Hogwarts wasn't devil territory—but still!

Whatever she'd revealed to Rias and Sona during their intense interrogation had done the trick—and more. Every time I was seen with Lilja, I caught Rias and Sona giving us these incredulous, slightly awed stares like they couldn't quite believe what they were seeing. Whatever it was, it was still something that I wasn't aware of yet. I was very curious but wouldn't pry if Lilja didn't want to tell me and obviously my beautiful aunt and gorgeous fiance had agreed to keep her secret.

But finally it was Friday again and the weekend had arrived. With it came the day Fleur and Gabrielle would finally be joining my peerage.

….

I glanced again at Fleur and Gabrielle, lying peacefully unconscious across the inn's bedding. The rook pieces had settled perfectly inside their chests, the devil transformation process already deep underway. Their breathing was steady and slow, completely relaxed, as if simply enjoying a deep sleep.

"They look so peaceful," Apolline murmured from beside them, leaning forward slightly to tuck a silky strand of Gabrielle's platinum-blonde hair behind her delicate ear. Her voice was warm, carrying the thick, lilting melody of her French accent. "I am… so incredibly proud, Harry. Truly. The opportunity you're giving them is beyond anything I dreamed of."

I smiled softly, genuinely touched. It wasn't every day I got to see a mother so earnestly proud of her daughters becoming literal devils.

Apolline straightened, gracefully smoothing her hands down the front of her dress as she took a deep, shuddering breath. Even her smallest gestures radiated sensuality, elegance, and poise. 

She looked stunning today—dressed deliberately, I suspected, to distract me as thoroughly as possible. The white dress clung sinfully to every delicious curve of her body. Thin, delicate straps adorned her creamy shoulders, supporting fabric that hugged her full, round breasts tightly enough that I could see the clear outline of her hardened nipples pressing through the material. The dress cinched around her waist, accentuating how slim yet shapely she was before flaring gently over the luscious swell of her hips. The hem ended daringly high, baring most of her perfect thighs and leaving no doubt that she'd deliberately chosen not to wear anything underneath. With her silver-blonde hair cascading down her smooth back in an elegant, shimmering curtain, she was practically screaming temptation.

She sniffled softly, turning her head slightly towards me. Her blue eyes sparkled, half emotional and half mischievous. "Do tell me, Harry," she teased playfully, a gentle smile spreading on those glossy lips, "when will Fleur and Gabrielle become high-class devils? I'd very much like to join one of their peerages soon. Imagine it—I'd be young and sexy forever."

I chuckled, shaking my head lightly. "At your current rate, Apolline, I'd say you're already dangerously close to eternal youth," I replied, letting my gaze blatantly trail down her body again. "But I'll be sure to hurry them along, just for you."

She laughed softly at that. After one more lingering look at her sleeping daughters, she turned fully towards me, hips swaying provocatively with every measured step. 

Without hesitation, she lowered herself gracefully onto the edge of the bed beside me, crossing one smooth, toned thigh elegantly over the other and angling her body towards me in unmistakable invitation. Her knee brushed gently against my leg. 

She tilted her head slightly, giving me a coy, knowing look. "They will be asleep for a while longer, oui?" she murmured softly, her voice deliberately sultry and low. "What shall we do to occupy ourselves until they awaken…?"

My eyes flicked briefly to Fleur and Gabrielle again, confirming that they were still peacefully unaware, deep in their devilish transformation. "We do have some time," I agreed slowly, deliberately lowering my voice to match hers. "Did you have anything in particular in mind?"

Her smile turned positively wicked.

"Oh, mon prince…" she purred softly, leaning closer until her intoxicating floral perfume enveloped me, her hand moving from her thigh to rest lightly, almost possessively, on my leg. Her manicured nails traced slow, teasing circles over my inner thigh, inching dangerously close to my now rock-hard cock beneath my robes. "We both know exactly what's on my mind. You've already made both of my daughters yours today. Isn't it fair that their poor maman receives some attention too?"

– Fleur –

Fleur woke up on her back on the floor, not on the soft mattress she very clearly remembered collapsing onto, and for a second her brain simply refused to accept the input her body was sending her.

Cold floorboards pressed against her bare shoulder blades and the back of her thighs. Her eyes blinked open slowly, lashes dragging once, twice, as her vision came into focus on the underside of the bed frame above her and the rough-hewn beams of the inn's ceiling beyond it.

She flexed her right hand without thinking, fingers curling into a fist and then spreading again, and immediately she felt it—that sharp, dense, grounding weight sitting in the very core of her being that hadn't been there before. The Rook piece. It pulsed inside her, and power rolled through her veins in response, heavier and deeper than anything she had ever felt as a Veela or as a witch, like someone had quietly poured molten iron into her muscles while she'd been unconscious.

Fleur drew in a slow, controlled breath, watching her fist in front of her face as she clenched it deliberately. Her own hand looked the same—slender, pale, fingers long and elegant—but when she squeezed, she felt the resistance of her own strength, felt the tendons and muscles engage with an ease and solidity that hadn't existed before. There was no trembling, no strain. Her arm felt like it belonged to someone who trained with a hammer or sword every day instead of to someone who had always used a wand and a smile to get what she wanted.

She pushed with her palm flat against the floor to sit up, expecting the groggy heaviness that usually followed magical exertion or emotional collapse. Instead, she almost launched herself clean off the boards. Her torso snapped upright faster than she anticipated, her balance shifting too quickly, and she had to plant her other hand down sharply to arrest the movement before she accidentally flung herself into the bed frame.

"Merde…" she muttered under her breath, eyes widening slightly as she processed how little effort that had taken. Her demonic body responded like a well-tuned instrument, no sluggishness, no slip between thought and motion. Even her magic felt different—heavier, more compressed, like raw power had been packed into a smaller, denser vessel. Her usual Veela magic, normally airy and fluid, now sat under a layer of something sharper, distinctly devilish, humming under her skin like a coiled spring.

She turned her head to the side, instinctively reaching out with her senses before her eyes followed. Gabrielle lay on the other side of the room, half on and half off the second bed, blonde hair spilled everywhere like a silk curtain. Her little sister was still completely unconscious, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Fleur extended her awareness, brushing lightly against Gabrielle's aura. The new devil signature was there—strong, steady, anchoring itself deeper with each breath. There was no sign of rejection, no turbulence in the flow. Gabrielle's transformation was progressing smoothly, her body busy knitting together magic and flesh into something new.

Fleur exhaled slowly in relief. That had been her one real worry, that somehow the piece wouldn't take, that all of this would leave Gabrielle trapped in some half-finished state. Seeing her peaceful like that loosened something tight in Fleur's chest.

A long, drawn-out moan cut through the quiet of the room like a knife, rich and throaty and absolutely unmistakable. Fleur's head snapped toward the sound on reflex, every muscle going taut for half a heartbeat before her brain caught up and recognized the voice.

Her maman.

She turned fully, pushing herself up onto her knees so she could see over the edge of the bed she'd apparently rolled off at some point, and the scene in front of her burned itself into her retinas in one painfully vivid instant.

Apolline was on the bed, naked on her hands and knees, facing the headboard. Her silver-blonde hair was a wild, tangled curtain down her back, some of it sticking damply to her shoulders and spine with sweat. Her arms trembled just enough that Fleur could see the effort it took to hold herself upright like that, fingers clenched hard in the sheets, knuckles pale. Her back was arched deeply, spine curving down into the broad flare of her hips, and her ass—Fleur's own future reflected back at her in perfect, mature form—was presented high and open, cheeks flushed pink from repeated impacts.

Behind her, Harry was buried to the hilt inside her, his hands locked like iron around Apolline's waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above her hips hard enough that Fleur could already see the faint red outlines forming beneath his grip. His bare thighs slapped into the backs of Apolline's with a wet, rhythmic sound that matched the rough, heavy cadence of his breathing. His cock—Fleur had felt it countless times herself, thick and heavy and almost unfairly long—disappeared and reappeared from between her mother's slick, stretched folds in relentless, deep thrusts, each motion dragging a fresh shuddering moan from Apolline's throat.

Fleur watched, her new devil eyes tracking every obscene detail whether she liked it or not. The base of his shaft was shiny with her mother's arousal, a mixture of their fluids clinging to the skin and stringing between his cock and Apolline's pussy every time he pulled back. Each thrust slammed his pelvis against the swell of Apolline's ass, making it jiggle and rebound, the sound of skin on skin sharp in the otherwise quiet room. Her mother's breasts hung heavily beneath her, swaying with every movement, hard pink nipples grazing the sheets each time Harry drove her forward.

Apolline's head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. Wordless sounds slid out of her with every exhale, half moan and half broken whimper, punctuated by hoarse, breathless pleas whenever Harry hit a particularly good angle.

"Oui… oui, mon dieu… encore… plus fort, Harry… s'il te plaît…" she babbled between gasps, voice shaking, switching into French without even noticing. "Oh, putain, oui… right there—don't stop…"

Fleur just sighed and rolled her eyes, the reaction more resigned than shocked. She shifted her weight back, sitting down fully on the floor with her back against the side of the bed, knees bent, hands resting loosely on them as she watched the scene with a kind of weary inevitability.

Of course this was happening. Of course.

She'd known this was going to be inevitable the second she realized Apolline still had veela blood humming through her veins and that Harry was exactly the kind of man that set every Veela instinct on fire. Her mother was far too hungry for affection, far too aware of her own body and desirability, to stay on the sidelines forever while Fleur and Gabrielle glowed about their time with him. Add to that a failing marriage and years of simmering frustration and loneliness, and the equation had only ever had one answer.

Honestly, Fleur was more surprised it had taken this long.

That didn't mean she was thrilled about it. A small, sour note of jealousy curled low in her stomach as she watched Harry's hands dig into Apolline's hips, watched his cock stretch her mother's pussy wide every time he slammed forward. But there was another, more comforting certainty layered over the jealousy—one she'd already decided on before any of this had happened.

Her mother could have her fun. Harry could take her, fuck her, even make her scream his name like this. But Apolline Delacour was not going to be a permanent addition to Harry's harem if Fleur had anything to say about it. Her mother was still married, even if that marriage was hanging by a thread and deserved to be cut. And Fleur refused to spend the next century dealing with her mother as both parent and co-wife.

"Ah! Harry, mon dieu, you're going to break me—" she whimpered, collapsing briefly onto her elbows before forcing herself back up.

Harry grunted, his voice rough. "You were the one begging to see how devils fuck, Apolline," he said, slapping her ass sharply with one hand. The sound cracked across the room. Her flesh jiggled deliciously. "Don't act surprised now."

Fleur rolled her eyes again. "Maman, you are unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, half annoyed, half impressed.

Apolline's head turned slightly at the sound, and one blue eye blinked open blearily. It took her a second to focus. When she finally registered Fleur kneeling at the side of the bed watching, her eyes went wide, then hazy with pleasure again as Harry drove into her especially deep.

"Ah—F-Fleur—chérie," Apolline gasped, managing a crooked, blissful smile. "You're awake…? O-Oh, bon… good timing… you can see how magnifique your King is treating your maman…"

Harry looked up then too, his thrusts faltering for one or two strokes as his eyes met Fleur's.

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other.

Fleur lifted her chin and gave him a flat look. The sort that clearly said, Yes, I see you fucking my mother. No, I'm not surprised. Yes, I will be bringing this up later.

He had the decency to look slightly sheepish for exactly half a second.

Then Apolline rolled her hips back against him with a needy, frustrated whine. "Harry! Don't you dare slow down now," she scolded breathlessly, reaching back to grab at his thigh. "Ignore her and keep fucking me properly, mon roi…"

He snorted, eyes flicking back down to Apolline's ass, and picked his pace back up.

His hips snapped forward faster now, driving into her in quick, hard thrusts that made Apolline's whole body jolt with each impact. Her moans climbed in pitch and volume, filling the room, bouncing off the walls. 

Fleur's enhanced devil senses picked up everything—the sound, the heat, the sharp, heady scent of sex thick in the air. 

On the bed, Harry adjusted his grip, sliding his right hand up from Apolline's waist to the small of her back. He pressed firmly, forcing her arch even deeper, tilting her hips just so. Fleur could see the change immediately—his next thrust sank even further, the angle shifting so that Apolline's entire body jolted, her fingers clawing desperately at the sheets as a strangled scream tore from her throat.

"Harry!" she cried out, voice breaking on his name. "Oh—mon prince, mon prince—là, là, là—don't stop, don't you dare stop—"

His left hand stayed clamped around her hip like a vice, pulling her back to meet each thrust. His pace was picking up now, his hips moving faster, more brutally, the muscles in his back and arms standing out sharply under his skin with the effort. Fleur's eyes tracked the movement automatically, new devil senses cataloging the control and sheer physicality in every motion. His balls slapped up against Apolline's clit with each thrust, her entire lower body shaking from the impact.

Fleur's gaze slid lower, to where their bodies joined. From her angle on the floor, she had an almost perfect view. Harry's thick shaft slid in and out of Apolline's flushed, swollen pussy with obscene clarity, her folds stretched tight around him. Each time he pulled back, Fleur could see Apolline's inner walls clinging desperately to him, reluctance in the way they tried to hold on before he forced them apart again with the next thrust. Her mother's juices slicked everything, coating his cock, dripping down between her thighs and wetting the sheets beneath them.

Apolline's arms finally gave out, and she collapsed forward onto her elbows, burying her face in the mattress for a moment as a ragged sob of pleasure escaped her. Harry followed her down, never missing a beat with his hips, bending his body over hers so that his chest pressed against her back. His right hand slid up her spine again, this time curling around the back of her neck, not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to make her shudder.

"Look at you," he growled softly, his voice low and rough enough that Fleur could just make it out over the slap of flesh and Apolline's breathless cries. "You're taking it so well, Apolline. I knew you would."

Her mother's answer dissolved into a keening moan as he sped up again, driving into her with a series of quick, hard thrusts that bounced her ass in time with his movements. Her nails dug into the sheets, shoulders shaking, legs trembling visibly under his weight. It was clear she was right on the edge again, hovering there, clinging desperately to the rhythm he was forcing into her.

"Harry—Harry, please—" Apolline babbled, words tumbling over each other in frantic desperation. "Don't stop, don't slow down—fill me, mon amour, s'il te plaît—fill me like a real man—inside, I want you inside, I want to feel you for days—"

Fleur closed her eyes for a brief moment and exhaled through her nose, both exasperated and unsurprised at the breeding-tinged begging. Of course Apolline would go there. Veela instincts didn't care about messy human things like strained marriages or family complications. They saw a strong, magically powerful male claiming a fertile, eager female and immediately went straight for the nest-building fantasies.

Well. She'd make very sure any accidental consequences were handled. The last thing she needed was a half-devil half-Veela sibling calling her "big sister" in twenty months.

On the bed, Harry adjusted his stance, planting his feet more firmly on the mattress. The movement changed the angle again, and Fleur could see the moment he decided to finish this. His hips hammered forward in a tight, relentless rhythm, no wasted movement now, each thrust driving deep and precise, his grip tightening on Apolline's hip and neck.

Apolline's cries climbed higher, her pitch shifting into that sharp, breathless range Fleur recognized all too well. Her mother's entire body went taut, muscles locking, heels digging into the sheets as she pushed back against him as hard as she could. "Oui, oui, oui, oui—!" she chanted helplessly, the word breaking into a strangled scream as her climax finally tore through her, making her whole body convulse around his cock.

Fleur watched Harry's jaw clench, watched the tendons stand out sharply in his neck as he held himself on the edge for maybe three more thrusts, then slammed in one last time, burying himself to the absolute hilt. His fingers dug into Apolline's flesh, and he groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling through the room as his hips pressed tight against her ass.

Even from where she sat, Fleur saw the subtle twitch of his lower body, the way his muscles tensed in short, hard pulses as he spilled inside her. Apolline let out a broken, happy sob at the sensation, collapsing fully onto the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably as she panted and murmured half-formed praises into the mattress. 

Harry stayed there for a long moment, chest resting against her back, breathing harshly into her hair, cock still buried deep in her pussy as his cum slowly seeped past the seal of her stretched entrance and began to drip onto the sheets.

Apolline slumped forward onto her face on the tangled sheets, a dreamy, satisfied grin stretched lazily across her flushed, sweat-dampened face. Her body trembled slightly from lingering aftershocks, small tremors rolling gently down her spine, making her full hips twitch in soft, rhythmic pulses. Between her widely spread thighs, Harry's thick, milky release trickled slowly from her reddened, freshly fucked pussy lips, dripping messily onto the already stained bedding.

Fleur sighed deeply, rolling her eyes, though she couldn't fully hide the fondness mixing freely with exasperation in her gaze. Her beloved king looked back at her, raising his brows sheepishly, guilt evident yet overridden entirely by playful mischief.

"Really, Harry?" Fleur said dryly, crossing her arms beneath her chest as she arched an eyebrow. "With Maman? Of all the things to entertain yourself with while Gabrielle and I lay here becoming literal devils, you pick… that?"

Harry chuckled softly, dragging a hand back through his messy, sweat-dampened hair and flashing her that charming, slightly roguish grin that always made her heart skip stupidly in her chest.

"Well, Fleur," he murmured, a hint of teasing in his rich, warm voice as he gestured toward Apolline's glistening, naked form still sprawled limply across the bed, "we did have several hours to kill while you two were unconscious. Apolline was… quite persuasive in offering to keep me busy."

"Of course she was," Fleur sighed again, though this time amusement colored her voice more clearly. Her maman could persuade a dragon to willingly part with its treasure hoard with a single flutter of her lashes and the curve of a full lip, after all.

A rustle of fabric and a sleepy, stumbling noise drew Fleur's attention sharply toward the other bed, where Gabrielle was just waking up, pushing herself upright and blinking rapidly. Her younger sister looked around blearily, silver-blonde hair tangled adorably around her shoulders, eyes squinted in confusion.

"Gabrielle," Fleur called gently, drawing her sister's wide-eyed attention to herself. "Are you alright?"

Gabrielle blinked again, then looked down at her hands, flexing and stretching her fingers carefully. A sudden bright, excited smile bloomed on her pretty face, her blue eyes lighting up joyfully.

"I'm a devil now, oui?" Gabrielle asked brightly, her voice lifting with happy disbelief and excitement.

"Oui, Gabby," Fleur confirmed gently, smiling affectionately at her. "We're both devils now."

Gabrielle opened her mouth excitedly, but stopped short as she finally registered the full scene playing out around her. Her eyes slid sideways, landing first on their naked, sweaty maman sprawled bonelessly on the bed with Harry's cum seeping lazily from between her thighs, then traveling up to Harry himself—standing tall, confident, and very clearly satisfied. Her shoulders slumped, and she released a resigned sigh mirroring Fleur's earlier reaction almost perfectly.

"I should have expected this," Gabrielle muttered with a delicate huff, giving their shameless maman an exaggeratedly disappointed look.

Apolline laughed softly, turning her head slightly on the mattress to flash both of her daughters a brilliantly unapologetic smile. With a lazy, satisfied moan, she pushed herself up onto her knees, breasts bouncing heavily, skin flushed and glowing. She stretched slowly, luxuriantly arching her back and thrusting her heavy tits proudly forward before scooting playfully toward the edge of the mattress.

"Oh, hush, both of you," Apolline teased warmly, wagging a scolding finger at Fleur and Gabrielle, her voice lilting softly with playful admonishment. "Honestly! Keeping such a magnifique stud all to yourselves for so long? So greedy, my beautiful little devils. Whatever happened to 'sharing is caring' among Veela?"

Gabrielle shot Fleur an incredulous, mildly amused look. Fleur snorted softly, shaking her head.

"Since when is sharing normal among Veela, Maman?" Fleur retorted dryly, one brow arching skeptically. "You know we are some of the most possessive women in existence. Gabrielle and I loving the same man peacefully is already something close to a miracle."

Gabrielle nodded vigorously in agreement. "Exactly, Maman! The only reason it works is because our beloved Harry is truly a man amongst men!" Her voice dipped slightly, eyes sparkling mischievously. "But you already discovered that yourself, didn't you?"

Apolline gave an entirely shameless grin, nodding enthusiastically. "Oui, I most certainly did," she purred. "And now, mes filles, it is time you both join me. Our wonderful Lord Harry has given us all such precious, priceless gifts today. We must properly thank him together—Veela style."

Without waiting for their protests or hesitation, Apolline reached out with quick, practiced grace, gripping one of Fleur's wrists and Gabrielle's forearm and tugging insistently. Fleur squeaked softly, stumbling forward onto the messy, cum-streaked bedding, Gabrielle falling beside her with a giggle and a resigned sigh.

As soon as they landed on the bed, Fleur felt a flush of heat surge through her body. Her newly enhanced devil senses kicked into overdrive—suddenly hyperaware of every rich, intoxicating scent lingering on the messy sheets beneath her, the musky scent of Harry's cum mixed with her mother's sweet arousal hitting her like a physical wave. Gabrielle beside her shivered, eyes dilating, her breaths quickly turning shallow as the same potent mixture washed over her.

"See?" Apolline whispered huskily.

"..."

– Tom Riddle (Stray Devil) –

Thinking was... Merlin, thinking had become so damned hard lately.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly what that scheming bitch Katerea had done to him, but whatever it was, his mind felt sluggish, thoughts thickening like tar with each passing day. It pissed him off, honestly—his mind had always been his greatest weapon, razor-sharp, calculating, flawless. 

And now, every thought came slower, hazier, like it had to wade through a swamp before surfacing in his consciousness.

But gods, he was powerful now.

Tom paused in his slithering, curling his massive new serpent tail beneath him and rising taller. He flexed the heavy coils, marveling for a moment at the strength and sheer size of his new body. Where once he'd had human legs, now stretched a thick, sinewy serpent's tail, covered in pale-white scales. His torso was broad and muscular, now also armored in beautiful, overlapping snake scales—hard enough to shrug off minor curses and even arrows, yet flexible enough to allow him to twist and coil as fluidly as any serpent born.

He stretched out his clawed fingers, testing their lethal points, watching them catch the faint light in the tunnel. Yes. This new form was one of perfection. Larger, stronger, far sneakier. He had shed his fragile humanity and emerged as something greater—a predator whose mere appearance would freeze witches and wizards in sheer terror.

Yet the nagging frustration persisted. His sluggish thoughts weren't improving, no matter how much he fed. He'd devoured centaurs at first, ambushing them silently from the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, coiling his massive tail around their kicking, struggling bodies before snapping their bones with effortless, satisfying pressure. When that hadn't sharpened his mind, he had hunted Acromantula, tearing through their twitching, hairy limbs and crunching through their tough carapaces with brutal force. Yet even feasting on these powerful magical beasts had done nothing to clear his mind.

His instincts whispered dark promises, devilish urgings he was only too eager to embrace. He needed new prey. Richer, more magically powerful nourishment. He needed to devour the humans of the castle along with those filthy devils too! 

And he knew exactly who he would start with—who he had to start with. The one who had destroyed his future legacy!

Harry Sitri.

Tom hissed under his breath at the mere thought of the infuriating half-devil prince. His forked tongue flicked out, tasting the cold, damp air in agitation. Killing Harry wasn't just about nourishment—it was about dominance. 

It was about showing every witch, wizard, and devil alike who was truly at the top of the food chain!

The idea thrilled him, burning through the fog in his mind like a hot iron through mist. He wanted to see Harry broken, terrified, humiliated. He wanted to feel that cursed devil's bones crunch and shatter within his coils. He wanted to swallow him whole, inch by struggling inch, feeling every last desperate kick and twitch before Harry finally succumbed. Yes, devouring Harry Sitri would be the perfect first meal. 

The ultimate declaration of his new apex status.

But Harry was elusive, powerful, dangerous. Tom knew he couldn't risk facing him directly—not at first. He needed bait. Harry's weakness was obvious—his pathetic harem of witches and devils, the collection of fawning females he seemed so irritatingly attached to.

Tom hissed again, this time with smug satisfaction. He'd spent days silently stalking through Hogwarts' walls, hidden passageways, and shadowy corners, carefully observing Harry's women. He'd considered and discarded several possibilities—powerful ones, loyal ones, the sharp-eyed twins always lingering protectively around their prince. No, he needed someone weak, someone vulnerable. Someone easy to snatch and use as a hostage so he could easily kill Harry Sitri. 

Then he saw her….

– Harry –

Apolline, Fleur, and Gabrielle really were one naughty family.

That was the first thought that crossed my mind as we finally left the warmth of the inn and stepped back out into the cool Scottish air, heading up the sloping road from Hogsmeade toward the castle. The second thought was that I probably should've insisted everyone at least pretend to tidy themselves up.

Fleur and Gabrielle, of course, had other ideas.

One on each side, they were clinging to my arms like they always did—Fleur hooked onto my left, Gabrielle wrapped around my right, both pressed in close enough that I could feel every sway of their hips as we walked. They looked… wrecked, in the smug, glowing, "we had an amazing time and we want the whole world to know" kind of way.

They'd deliberately not fixed their clothes either.

"I still can't believe you're walking back to the carriages like this," I said, more amused than disapproving. "You know half the Beauxbatons girls are going to gossip for weeks."

"Let zem," Fleur said lightly, chin tilted up, accent thick with satisfaction. "Zey already gossip about us, mon roi. At least now, zey will gossip wiz envy."

She pressed herself even closer against my arm as she said it, as if to underline the point. Her tits squished against my bicep, warm even through the fabric, and she smirked when she felt my muscles tense in reaction.

Gabrielle hummed in agreement on my other side, giving a little satisfied wriggle as she tightened her hold on me. "Oui. Let zem see," she added with a soft giggle. "All zose silly girls who spent weeks wondering how big our Harry is in bed can now know zat we are ze lucky ones~"

I snorted. "You two are menaces."

""Oui,"" they said at the same time, neither sounding remotely sorry.

The path out of Hogsmeade was mostly empty at this hour. A few late groups of students were still trickling back up to the castle, but most had gone already. The sky was leaning toward evening. 

The wind had picked up a bit, nipping at exposed skin, but both Veela on my arms clung closer.

Fleur was quiet for a minute, then breathed out a small huff through her nose. "But do not get used to zat, Harry," she said suddenly as she tilted her head to look up at me. "What 'appened zis afternoon—it was… special. But it will not become normal. Understood?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "You mean the part where I turned you and your sister into devils? Or the part after that?"

She gave me a look. "You know exactly which part I am talking about. Our maman." Just saying it made her lips press into a line.

Gabrielle nodded emphatically, her fingers tightening briefly around my arm. "Oui. We love 'er, but maman is not joining your harem," she said firmly, as if she were setting an unbreakable law of the universe. "You can have us, but you do not need any ozzer Veela besides us." She pressed herself more firmly against me as she spoke, like she was staking her claim physically as well as verbally.

"Exactly," Fleur added. "You already 'ave two very devoted, very talented, very insatiable Veela. Any more and your poor devil cock might actually fall off one day." Her lips quirked into a wicked smirk. "And we cannot 'ave zat, now can we?"

I laughed. "I appreciate your concern for my health."

"Good. Zen you will listen," she sniffed, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. "Whatever happened between you and Maman today—" she flicked her gaze sideways at me, heat and irritation mixed in equal measure "—stays what it was. A one-time… indulgence." She chose her words carefully, then added firmly, "She is still married. Even if Papa is an idiot lately. We will not let zings stay messy forever."

Gabrielle's expression softened at that, and she let out a quiet sigh. "We do 'ope zey can work zings out, you know," she said, her voice gentler. "Papa was… awful about us becoming devils. And about you. But… zey were happy once. Before all ze fighting and ze fear." She glanced up at me, eyes earnest. "We do not want to lose 'im. Even if we are angry right now."

I didn't say anything for a moment. It wasn't my place to decide how their family should look in the future. But in my head, I didn't see her going back to smiling politely and pretending everything was fine with Jean Delacour. Not after what we all just did in the inn's room.

Jean Delacour should probably be expecting divorce papers sometime soon, I thought dryly. I kept that particular observation to myself. No sense dropping that bomb on them when they were still processing their new devil bodies and everything that came with them.

"We'll see," I said instead, giving Gabrielle's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever happens between them, you two will have me and my family at your backs now. No matter what."

That made them both smile, soft and genuine, and they leaned into me in perfect mirrored motion, as if they'd rehearsed it.

After dropping them off at their carriages, I headed back inside the warm castle. 

….

By the time I trudged back up from Hogsmeade, still feeling pleasantly sore and smug from my… extracurricular activities with the Delacour women, I was kind of looking forward to a boring evening. So of course, the universe took one look at that thought and decided to punt it straight into the fucking sun!

I hadn't even stepped fully into the Entrance Hall before I realized something was wrong.

Instead of the usual low roar of students coming back from the village—laughing, arguing over who bought the best sweets, bitching about homework—I walked straight into a wall of silence. Not real silence, exactly, but that tense, choked kind where everyone was talking in hushed voices, huddled together in tight little knots, eyes wide and darting.

A whole mass of bodies clogged the center of the hall, a thick ring of cloaks and uniforms and whispering mouths. Hufflepuffs clung to each other, Ravenclaws craned their necks, even a few Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students were mixed into the press. Faces were pale, some streaked with tears, some hard with anger, some just… stunned.

My good mood bled out of me in an instant.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. "What now?"

I started pushing my way through the crowd.

People moved aside almost without thinking, like someone had flipped a switch. Conversations broke off mid-sentence as they caught sight of me, whispers turned into pointed stares. 

""HARRY!"" Two blurs of color barreled out of the throng and slammed into me from the front. Lavender and Parvati, both still in their coats from Hogsmeade, crashed to a stop against my chest. Lavender's golden hair was a mess, her mascara was smudged from crying, and Parvati's braid was half undone, dark hair sticking to her damp cheeks. Both of them were breathing hard like they'd been running. They grabbed at my sleeves.

"Harry, she's gone!" Lavender blurted, voice wobbling between a sob and a shriek.

"Gone," Parvati echoed, eyes huge and wet. "She's—"

"What?" I cut in sharply. "What are you talking about? Who's gone?"

"Jasmine," Parvati whispered. "Jasmine's gone."

Everything in me went still.

"What happened?" I heard myself ask. "Start from the beginning."

Lavender gulped, fingers twisting in my robes. "We—we were in the library," she stammered. "Studying. Well, pretending to study. Jazz said she was gonna run back to the dorm to grab her notes—she forgot them. It wasn't even that long, Harry. We thought she'd be right back. But she didn't show. We waited, like, twenty minutes and then—"

"And then we went looking," Parvati said, taking over, talking faster and faster like she needed to get the words out before she broke. "We checked the common room, the loo, the library again, everywhere. No one had seen her. And then—"

"We heard screaming," Lavender whispered. "So we came down here and—"

"Harry!" Sona's voice cut in. She was standing near the front edge of the crowd with Rias beside her, the two of them a ridiculous picture of contrasts even in a crisis. Sona's dark bob was sharp and perfect despite the chaos, her Ravenclaw robes immaculate, face composed—but there was a tightness around her eyes I didn't like. Rias, in her Hufflepuff colors that somehow looked like high fashion, had her arms folded under her tits, her mouth set in a thin line that didn't match her usual easy smile.

I gently pried Lavender's and Parvati's hands off my robes. "Stay here," I told them quietly. "I'll fix it."

I made myself move toward Sona and Rias. As I approached, the reason for the crowd finally came into full view.

The far wall of the Entrance Hall, the one of smooth pale marble that led down toward the dungeons, had been defaced. Not with paint, not with ink—but with something much darker. Words had been carved into the stone itself in jagged, furious strokes, each letter gouged deep enough that cracks radiated outward like spiderwebs. 

The message stretched across nearly the entire width of the wall, huge and impossible to ignore. Whoever had written it had done so quickly but with such force that every stroke screamed with hatred.

THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN HAS RETURNED, YOU FOOLS! 

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!

I HAVE TAKEN WHAT IS YOURS, HARRY SITRI!

I HAVE TAKEN JASMINE POTTER TO THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS WHERE I WILL DEVOUR HER SOUL!

COME ALONE IF YOU WANT ANY CHANCE AT SAVING HER!

I felt myself growing furious at the message! 

A hand brushed my arm—light, hesitant, fingertips ghosting over my wrist. I looked down and found Lilja standing just off my shoulder, closer than I'd realized. She was breathing hard, not out of fear, but anger. A low, furious sound rumbled in her throat, not quite a growl, but damn close.

"I'm going with you," she said, voice low and flat, threaded through with steel. There was no hesitation. "Wherever this chamber is, I'm going with you, Harry. Don't even think about arguing with me! I won't let Marlene's daughter die!"

"Lilja—" I started.

"You're not going alone," she snapped. "I don't care what some deranged idiot scratches on a wall. He doesn't get to dictate your movements. He doesn't get to think you'll actually walk into a trap by yourself because he wrote in big scary letters."

The second Lilja snapped out that fierce declaration, a warm, familiar presence pressed gently against my side from behind. Before I could even turn my head fully, the softness of Rias's breasts had already found my left arm, molding comfortably against me. She stepped in front just enough to face me properly, her crimson hair spilling gracefully over one shoulder, eyes intense and worried.

"Harry," Rias whispered, voice so quiet only I could clearly hear her. She rose onto the tips of her toes and pressed a warm, tender kiss against my cheek. Her lips lingered just a fraction of a second too long—just enough to send a comforting warmth through me, breaking briefly through my anger and anxiety. She drew back slowly, looking deeply into my eyes, her worry clear but carefully hidden behind the strength of her gaze. "You'd better come back safe. No risks you don't need to take."

I nodded gently, meeting her eyes and silently promising her everything I could.

"I'll be careful," I said quietly, leaning just slightly toward her ear so no one else could hear. "Promise."

As she reluctantly stepped back from the intimate contact, Sona quietly slipped closer, her posture as precise and proper as always. Unlike Rias, my aunt couldn't openly display the true nature of her feelings—not in a public space like this. But her eyes said everything words couldn't right now. She glanced around subtly, assessing the attention around us, before stepping forward and carefully wrapping her arms around me in a firm, deliberate embrace.

The hug was brief but powerful. Her slender body pressed lightly into mine for just a few precious seconds before she slowly pulled back, fingers lingering on my shoulders.

"Be smart, Harry," Sona said clearly, loudly enough to be heard, yet still gentle. Her dark eyes gazed sharply into mine, her hidden message clear to me alone—don't you dare put yourself in unnecessary danger. "Do not do anything reckless. Remember, you are not alone."

I gave her a small, meaningful nod, letting her know I understood completely.

"I'll be smart," I promised again, meaning it with all my heart. "I won't rush in without thinking."

Sona released me slowly, her fingertips sliding down my arm gently before she stepped back. She quickly straightened her robes and fixed her glasses, returning instantly to her composed Ravenclaw persona. 

Dumbledore was approaching us, looking older and more weary than I'd ever seen him. As he drew nearer, he stopped next to me and gazed up at the violent words carved into the marble wall. The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened visibly as he read the message again.

"Harry," Dumbledore finally said, turning slowly to face me directly. His voice was heavy, almost cracked with genuine sadness. "I had so deeply hoped we would not face yet another tragedy this year. One student has already vanished without a trace—now another. Jasmine…"

He trailed off quietly, shoulders sinking further. I felt a sudden rush of understanding, my gut tightening even further.

Right—the boy who'd vanished about a week ago. We'd all assumed the stray devil had eaten or destroyed the body somehow. Lyra and Lyna had practically torn apart the Forbidden Forest searching but found nothing at all. Now, staring at the wall again, my mind raced rapidly, pieces of a terrifying puzzle clicking sharply into place.

Wait…

Was Voldemort the stray devil we'd been looking for? Was this even Voldemort at all, or maybe someone just pretending to be him so they could get me alone to hurt me? 

I supposed neither really mattered, because they would be dead before the night was out. Now I just needed to find the Chamber of Secrets first, because of course the insane creature that did this forgot to mention where it was located.

But thankfully, I knew someone who might be able to tell me. I turned back to Sona and asked her where I could find Luna.

XXX