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Coming of Age

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The year James started Hogwarts his father gave him a coming of age gift.  It was a traditional gift, one that all Potter men were given upon leaving the family home for the wider magical world.  Though the tradition had started with the Malfoys, brought over with them from France along with the Norman invasion, by now Fleamont Potter was unaware of a single pureblood family that didn’t follow it.  Even many half-bloods did, particularly those whose parents had spent summers with purebloods, as they knew exactly how important such a tradition was.

Which was why when James came home from Diagon Alley (having gone with his mother to procure his wand), he was greeted with two muggle girls about his age.

They were perfect, sisters with golden-red hair, wide blue eyes, and just the slightest dusting of freckles across their nose and cheeks.  Fleamont had gone through some trouble to find them, venturing all the way to Cornwall, where Maxwell Prewett told him he would find a girls’ orphanage full of delightful options.  As Maxwell had recently had the difficult task of finding four girls for his twin boys, Fleamont was inclined to trust his judgement.  From there it had been a surprisingly difficult task, the large building being overrun with girls, nearly all of them viable candidates.  He started by enquiring about red-heads of roughly 8 to 14 as he was well aware that James’ head turned every time a Prewett girl passed him.  There had been no true gingers at the orphanage, but there had been several girls with reddish sheens to their hair, four of which were immediately dismissed for being too plain.  That left him with twelve possible options, including a set of twins he seriously considered, until his discreet Bride Charm indicated that both had already been taken.

The twins were dismissed, as were three more girls who he was surprised to discover were with child, though recently enough that they likely didn’t know it yet.  He was half-tempted to report the place to the muggle authorities when he was done, Merlin knew what things the poor girls had been subject to, what with the muggles’ silly taboos about pleasure.  He could only imagine that whoever was fucking them must be a brute of a thing.  In fact, he thought he would find a way to contact the muggle authorities (police, he thought they were called), if only because a third charm showed that there were two witches in the group, one of whom was no longer a virgin.  He told the witches to wait for him in an adjoining room, before going on to inspect the remaining five girls.

They had potential, all of them.  He was rather surprised they hadn’t already been adopted, as all were quite attractive for their ages and unfailingly polite.  One more was dismissed for being more than a bit slow, he made a note to see if the family solicitor couldn’t find a squib family to take her in, ensure the poor thing was well-cared for.  A bit of payment for the services the muggles didn’t know they were rendering.  The Crabbes may be willing to simply steal away muggles they fancied, even going so far as to take children from loving homes, but Fleamont was a Potter and Potters always paid their debts.

Of the four left, he kept finding himself drawn to two.  They were obviously sisters, only their heights giving away that they weren’t twins, and the elder was already experienced so he wouldn’t have to break one of them in before James’ birthday.  That was useful, as Euphemia had kept delaying his trip, not wanting to accept that her only son would be leaving them so soon.  It would take at least a month to properly train a girl himself, if he wanted to be gentle and not simply tear her as the Notts did with their girls, plus another week or so for her awakened desire to build.  James’ birthday was in three weeks.

Decided, he sent one of the girls away, leaving him with the sisters, as well as a gift for Aiden McKinnon’s boy, who would be graduating Hogwarts in June.  The poor lad would be spending the next six years training with a master Healer in Germany who was also a monk.  It was a wonderful opportunity, Master Healer Engel only rarely taking on apprentices, but he would need a girl to keep him from neglecting his studies for jaunts into town and, as Fleamont would be making the trip anyway, he had offered to find him one.

Then there was the inconvenience of having to ensure the five girls he’d be taking were all accounted for with the muggle authorities.  Laurel Bones had neglected that step when finding her daughter’s coming of age gifts and the Obliviators had presented her with a bill for all the time they had been forced to spend modifying the memories of an entire village.  It wasn’t particularly difficult work, simply a well placed Confundus charm so the orphanage matron signed the necessary paperwork to have a fake muggle by the name of Peter Fletcher adopt the girls, but it was tedious.  As was putting the three muggles to sleep and slipping the necklace-portkeys he’d had made around their necks and activating them so that they were sent to Linfred Castle and McKinnon Manor, as appropriate.  

The witches were another task, Fleamont having to explain to them that they were, in fact, witches before anything else.  They were rather offended at first, Fleamont having forgotten that "witch" was generally an insult amongst Muggles, but the tea set turning into a set of dancing teddy bears was rather convincing.  They were sweet girls, really, he decided to take them home instead of calling for Laurel.  See if Euphemia might be interested in adopting them themselves.  She had always wanted a girl, and the losses were long enough ago now that they weren’t quite so painful to think about.  Plus, the younger girl had only just turned eight and so wouldn’t be off to Hogwarts for another three years, which might help ease the emptiness that was sure to infect the castle come September.

His wife’s shock and joy when he presented the choice to her was worth the effort it had taken to side-along the two witches.  James’ sulking was less pleasant, but when Wendy, the younger girl (who Fleamont thought did look rather like Edward Darling’s daughter, when she was a child) ran to him one day, grabbing his hand and looking up at him with tear-filled eyes before asking if he could pretty please kill the spider that was sitting on her dollhouse, he was completely won over.  Sarah’s nervous request that he be the one to guide her into her coming of age in October helped as well, though Euphemia denied it, not wanting James to treat his adoptive sisters any differently than he would a sister by blood.  Fleamont rather agreed, though it was difficult to take Sarah’s obvious disappointment.  (James, strangely, was reluctant, despite his obvious pride at being asked.)  Euphemia promised to find a sweet boy, a wizard even, to make up for the poor girl’s muggle upbringing.  Augusta’s son, if he was amenable to spending a month or so with them.  He was quite handsome, as well as known for being kind and gentle, and only leaving Hogwarts this summer.  Upon seeing a picture, Sarah perked up nicely, suddenly looking forward to her birthday.

Now, however, was James’ birthday and Fleamont beamed at his son’s approval of his choices.  The girls had filled out nicely in the weeks since they’d been at Linfred Castle, now waifish instead of sickly and with a healthy shine to their hair that made the strawberry highlights stand out even more.  Both were in simple white dresses, the elder’s accented with red and the younger’s with blue.  James swore he could feel his brain stop functioning for a moment as the blood rushed to his groin.

“They’re for me?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“Only one for now,” Fleamont said, gently pushing the older girl forward.  “You may have the other when you’ve learnt control and finesse, not a moment before.”

James sulked, unaccustomed to not getting everything he wanted, exactly when he wanted it.  “But it’s my birthday today.  Why can’t I have them both?”

“You aren’t ready for both right now.  You do want to be able to make it good for her, right?  Not like those cruel Nott boys, who care only about themselves?”

“What if I don’t?”

Fleamont frowned at his son, knowing for certain that he had been raised better than this.  “Then you shall have neither,” he said, “and will have to go to Hogwarts knowing nothing.”  He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.  “And if I suspect that you aren’t careful and kind with your first gift, I will not hesitate to withhold your second.”

At that James started, staring up at his father in disbelief.

“You are a Potter, James.  A Gryffindor.  We are chivalrous, even when it is difficult to be.  I don’t expect you to be superhuman, you are still learning after all, but you will do everything in your power to ensure every girl you are with enjoys herself just as much as you do.  Yes,” he said, talking over James’ attempt to interrupt, “even the muggles.  Especially these muggles.  Am I understood?”

“Yes, Father.”  

“Good,” Fleamont said, “Now, I am going to leave the two of you alone for a bit to get to know each other.  Do not disappoint me, son.”  And with that he left, taking the younger girl back to her rooms in another wing of the castle, where a governess was waiting for her.

James turned to the older girl, trying hard to think of her as a girl rather than just a muggle.  “Hello.  I’m James Hardwin Potter.  What’s your name?”

“Rebecca,” the girl said, after a moment, “is it really your birthday?”

“Yes, and you are my birthday gift.”

Rebecca looked at him curiously.  “Am I?” she asked, “That’s strange.  Am I your maid?  I’m quite good at cleaning, though Sister Mary-Grace says my sewing is atrocious.”

James blinked at her, unsure how to answer.  “No,” he said slowly, “You’re…we’re…you are for me to learn, before I go to Hogwarts.”

“Learn what?”

“How to…please a girl.  So that the girls at Hogwarts and I can practice for when we’re married.”  James thought for a moment, then added, “And so we can decide who we might want to marry, but almost no one knows that until fourth year, at least.”

“Oh.  Well, that’s easy.  You just have to be nice.  Don’t pull their hair or put spiders in their lunch like other boys.”  Rebecca paused, chewing her lip.  “Are you going to take us back to the orphanage now?”

“What?  No, you shan’t be going back to that place ever again.”  James grimaced as he remembered the things Wendy had told him, about the visitors and how frightened she was, all the time.  He was quite glad Father had gotten it shut down.  Horrid people, to do anything to hurt his baby sister.  “And that’s not quite what I meant by pleasing a girl,” he said, trying to think of how to phrase things so she’d understand.  “Do you know anything about what boys and girls can do together?  Grown ones, I mean, when they’re married.”  He remembered the odd muggle views just in time.

Rebecca took a step away from him, a move that made him think of Wendy when she’d first arrived and shook every time they were alone together.  “You mean like the men Mrs Morris used to bring over?”  Rebecca’s face started to crumple, tears forming in her eyes.  “Please don’t,” she said, “I don’t — I don’t want to and your father said you had to be nice to me.”

“No!” James started to rush towards her, then stopped when she backed away further, stumbling over the rugs.  “Nothing like that, I swear.”  He moved away from her, sitting in one of the armchairs where she could still see him.  “Please, have a seat.  I promise I’ll stay right here.”

Rebecca slowly stood up, clutching the sides of her dress as she went to sit in the chair furthest away from James.  She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, unable to slow down.

“It’s not supposed to be like that,” James said.  He understood his father’s anger now.  He couldn’t imagine how the Notts could do anything that would make a girl as terrified as Rebecca obviously was.  “That was…what those men did to you was very, very wrong.”  He looked at Rebecca , hoping he could find a way to explain without scaring her.  “It’s supposed to be nice.  It’s supposed to be something you want to do.  Something that feels so good you don’t want to do anything else.  At least, that’s what Mother and Father told me.”  He smiled softly at her.  “I haven’t actually done it myself yet.  I was supposed to learn how with you.”

“I don’t want to,” Rebecca whispered.  She had pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.  “It hurts so much.  There’s nothing good about it.”

James decided that he was going to look up the worst hexes he could find and track down every man who’d gone to that orphanage.  “It’s not supposed to hurt,” he said, “but if you don’t want to then we won’t.”  He paused for a moment, watching as Rebecca slowly started to relax.  “Did any of them ever kiss you?”

Rebecca grimaced.  “Yes.  It was horrid.  Scratchy and slobbery and sometimes I couldn’t breathe.”

“Well,” James took a deep breath, “what if I kissed you, just once, so you could see how it’s not the same?  Just a kiss, I promise.  If I do anything else you can scream as loud as you want and Father will come in and take you away.”

Rebecca bit her lip as she considered for what felt to James like hours before nodding, just slightly.  He smiled, getting up from his seat and walking over to her, being sure to go slow so that she could get used to the idea.  When he was still  few steps from her he asked her to stand up, not wanting to loom over her in her chair.  She was so small as it was, the way all muggles were for some reason, always looking so much younger than they were.  Even muggleborns were usually smaller than other witches and wizards their age, though no one quite knew why.  For a minute, James simply stood in front of her, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way until her fingers unclenched from her dress.  He carefully pressed a hand to her cheek, gently tilting her head up towards him.  Still, he had to lean down slightly to meet her lips, not wanting to tilt her head up too far lest he give her an ache in her neck.

He made sure to keep the kiss soft, just a press of his lips against hers as he stroked the side of her face with his thumb.  After a moment she realised he really wasn’t going to do more and relaxed further, enough for him to suckle slightly at her lower lip.  For long minutes he kissed her, gently moving his lips against hers, a thrill running through him when she began to respond, and lifted her arms to wrap around his neck.  He stopped when he felt the urge to grab her waist and pull her tight against him, not wanting to break his promise.  Instead he leaned his forehead against hers, enjoying how she kept her hands on his shoulders and nuzzled into his palm.

“That was nice,” she said and James was certain this was already his best birthday ever.  “Can we do it again?”

When Father returned, Rebecca was sitting sideways across his lap, one arm around his neck and the hand of the other fisted in his hair as they snogged.  He was less than pleased to be told to go to his rooms alone and gather himself before she was sent up, but when he was done after just the slightest brush of his hand he decided Father probably knew what he was on about.

Rebecca, of course, was hesitant to enter his rooms until he opened the door wide and showed her that his bedroom proper was through yet another door and she would only be in his sitting room.  He asked if she’d eaten, calling a house elf for tea when he found out she’d only had breakfast and it was now nearly one in the afternoon.  That gave Rebecca a shock, something that quite surprised James as he had assumed she already knew about magic and house elves, having been living in Linfred Castle since his father had gotten her and her sister.  It took some time for him to explain to her that they were perfectly nice creatures, that particular elf, Hatty, having raised him since he was just a baby.  He called for her again, so that she and Rebecca could meet properly, hoping it would help calm her fears.

Hatty was rather taken with Rebecca , saying she was the perfect gift for Young Master James.  He was a bit confused when she followed that up with a sly smile and “but Hatty is thinking the other is being more important.”  Before he could question her, however, she popped out and back in again, this time with one of the albums from when James was a baby.  He groaned, knowing there was no getting out of at least an hour of Hatty showing Rebecca every photo of his bare bum and toilet training incidents there was.  At least she was relaxed now, laughing and smiling as she looked through the pictures while nibbling at sandwiches.

By the time Hatty left James was positively vibrating with anticipation.  He knew his excitement must be written all over his face, but he couldn’t think of a way to control it.  Still, he forced himself to move slowly, carefully pulling Rebecca into a gentle kiss when all he wanted to do was hold her tight against him and suckle at her neck before tearing that damned dress off.

Rebecca’s quiet hum of pleasure when he tapped his tongue against hers reminded him why it was better to go slow.  He kissed her, slow and careful, gently drawing more happy sighs and gasps, even a slight moan when he kissed just behind her ear.  At some point she’d moved to straddle his waist, though he couldn’t begin to remember when, and now he had to fight against the urge to press up against her.  Instead he stroked her back and sides, eventually daring to slowly pull down the neckline of her dress so that he could kiss along her shoulder and neck.  He was rewarded with Rebecca’s loudest gasp yet, her head falling back and her fingers tangling in his hair as she rocked her hips against him, seemingly without thought.

She froze when she felt him hard between her legs.

James stopped immediately, dropping his head to her shoulder while he took deep breaths in the hopes of composing himself.  When the insistent pressure in his groin had receded slightly he pulled back and looked at Rebecca, taking in her wide eyes and how she chewed at her bottom lip.

“We can stop, if you’d like,” he said, ignoring the childish part of him that was throwing a temper tantrum in the back of his mind.  His ensuite was just through the door next to his bedroom, he could quietly take care of himself and come back to making sure Rebecca was comfortable, if he absolutely had to.  He thought it mightn’t be a bad idea even if she wanted to continue, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pulling back like this before he lost control.

He felt himself twitch when Rebecca hesitantly shook her head.  “It feels nice,” she said.  “Only…you promise not to do anything I don’t like?”

James nodded, kissing her quickly just because he could.  “I promise, if there is anything you don’t like or are afraid of or don’t want to do right now, just tell me and I’ll stop.  I did just now, didn’t I?”

She continued to look at him, still biting her lip.  Then she rolled her hips hard against his, making him gasp and clutch her hips tight.  Rebecca giggled, continuing to rock herself against him.  “Does that feel good?” she asked.  James could only nod, too overwhelmed by the press of her against him, even through his robes, to form a coherent thought.  Merlin, he really should have taken care of himself again because he wasn’t going to last and they hadn’t even removed any clothing yet.

When Rebecca rolled her hips at a slightly different angle, one that made her gasp in surprise, James felt himself nearing his limits.  Her murmurings of pleasure as she learnt herself only made him throb more, and when she moaned, pressing herself harder against him, he was lost.  He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest and sucking at her neck as he thrust his hips up against her.

He came back to himself slowly.  His first thought was that he must have terrified the poor girl, grabbing her like that.  That was quickly followed by the realisation that she was still sitting astride his lap, whimpering as she rocked frantically against him.  Unfortunately, he could feel himself softening and knew she’d get no release that way.

He stilled her hips, tilting her chin up to look at him when she cried out in frustration.  “Shh, here, don’t cry,” he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb and letting her resume her rocking despite knowing it was of no use.  “Do you trust me to do something new?  I think you’ll like it very much.”

Rebecca nodded, still whimpering and desperate.  He carefully turned her around, so that her back was pressed against his chest, her legs still spread wide around his.  He suckled at her neck, sliding his hand slowly up her leg, hoping he wouldn’t unintentionally scare her.  When he slipped beneath her skirt he groaned, finding that she was completely bare under her dress.  He thought he maybe should have expected it, knowing what she had been gifted to him for, but he still had been preparing for knickers, maybe those silky ones like Smith had brought over once to tease him with.  Instead he was touching her bare skin, carefully running his finger between her lips, searching for a spot the training books Mother had insisted he read said was as sensitive as the head of his cock.

He knew he had found it when Rebecca stiffened, before pressing against his hand.  He circled, carefully, gently, trying to discover what she liked.  It was more difficult than he had imagined, direct stroking making her gasp and pull away, but rubbing along the sides only building her frustration.  Somehow he had thought it would come naturally, his hands simply knowing what to do without his input.  Instead he found himself experimenting blindly, trying to remember every reaction while also wanting to get her off quickly to relieve the pain he thought she’d be feeling, if it was at all like when he had been stimulated for too long.

Rebecca was pressing wildly against his hand by that point, making his task even more difficult.  He felt his hand slip just a touch lower than it had before, his middle finger grazing her entrance.  He froze, opening his mouth to apologise, when she moaned and lowered her hips so that he slid just barely inside her.  Well.  That was unexpected.  Nice, he was definitely hardening again at the tight wet heat around his fingertip, but unexpected.  Cautiously, he pressed his finger deeper inside her, watching for the slightest negative reaction.

He needn’t have worried.  Rebecca was nearly incoherent, thrusting her hips so that his finger slid in and out of her, while the heel of his palm grazed against her clit.  She had her arm wrapped around him, pulling his head down to suck and kiss at her neck, her other hand clutching his arm tight, nails digging into his skin.  He thought he couldn’t possibly be any more turned on, then he slid another finger alongside the one that was already inside her.

She gasped, thrusting herself down his hand before going completely stiff as her pussy pulsed around his fingers.  James wished he could see her face, memorise what she looked like, feeling this for the very first time.  Instead he had to content himself with feeling the way her body tried to pull his fingers in deeper, how her back arched, lifting off his lap as she tried to get just that much closer to his hand.  Her clit was throbbing against his palm, something the books hadn’t bothered to tell him.  Then, all at once, almost as if she was a puppet whose strings had been cut, she relaxed, collapsing back against him.  Her panting breaths and soft hums as she continued to slowly work herself against his hand were the most erotic things he had ever heard in his life.  Better, even, than when he spied on Diggory and the muggleborn he’d taken home for the summer at one of the garden parties their mothers liked to throw.  That girl had been far from him, his view mostly blocked by Diggory’s unfortunate arse.  Rebecca was in his arms right now, each press of her hips onto his fingers also making her bum rub against his hardening cock.

He gently drew his fingers out of her, nearly relenting when she whined softly at the loss, but still concerned about frightening her if she realised he was hard again.  He pushed her gently off his lap, so that she was standing in front of him, and adjusted himself, biting his lip at how much he wanted more.  James was about to pull her to stand between his legs so that he could kiss her, when she surprised him, dropping to her knees and staring up at him as she hesitantly began to rub at the bulge in his robes.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, though it took every ounce of willpower he had.

“I know.  I want to.”  A bit more of James’ blood left his brain.  “Can I take these off?  It’s easier that way.”  James just nodded, eyes wide as Rebecca fumbled slightly with the openings of his robes.  He only just had the presence of mind to lift his hips when she tugged at his underthings, and not nearly enough to consider his shoes, instead leaning down to kiss her, hard and needy so that she was breathless when he pulled away.

Her touch was soft, he would have said teasing, if some part of him wasn’t aware of how difficult it was for her to do this when she wanted to, rather than because she was forced to.  The reminder made him wilt, just slightly, so that Rebecca frowned and tightened her grasp.  He allowed himself to simply enjoy the sensation then, lolling his head against the back of the sofa.  He was vaguely aware that he was making noises, hums and groans he couldn’t remember himself making when he was alone, but a glance down showed Rebecca with one hand on his cock and the other beneath her dress so he decided he wasn’t particularly interested in trying to keep himself quiet.  It was…oddly pleasant, this gentle stroking and touching.  If asked, he’d have said that the toying and experimenting Rebecca was doing would drive him mad, but instead he found himself entering a kind of happy daze, where everything narrowed down to the feel of her hand on him.

Which was why he gasped and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something warm and wet around the head of his cock.

He looked down, staring at Rebecca, who now had her lips wrapped around him.  “You don’t —” he started to say, before she did something that made him throb and groan.  He had no idea what it was and he didn’t much care, as long as she kept doing it.

She did.  Over and over and over until he was thrusting slightly into her mouth, in spite of his attempts not to.  He could hear her whimpering, feel the vibrations around his cock, as she played with herself beneath her dress.  James found himself hoping it was the first time she’d done that, that she was discovering what she liked while she sucked his cock.  It was selfish, he thought he probably should have wanted her to have had some sort of pleasure when she was being hurt at that orphanage, but he still throbbed at the idea.

She was taking more of him in now, able to slide halfway down before having to pull back.  It was brilliant and horrible all at once and James found he didn’t like the way she gagged slightly when trying to go further.  Carefully, reluctantly, he pulled her off him, whimpering at the loss even as he pulled her up so he could kiss her.

“Nothing that hurts,” he said, unable to resist sliding his fingers into her when she was right there and so clearly wanting.  “Ok?”

Rebecca nodded, her forehead pressed against his own and her hips bucking against his hand.  “Want you to feel good,” she gasped, “like, oh, like me.”

As if James needed any more mental stimulation putting him that much closer to the edge.  He groaned, his head falling to rest on her shoulder.  This girl was going to be the death of him and it was only the first day.  He couldn’t imagine what her sister would be like.  He thought he truly might die from all the blood pulsing in his groin.

He started when Rebecca raised herself off his fingers, groaning again when she dropped back to her knees, slowly lapping at his cock.  He went back to that hazy pleasure, head lolled back and world narrowed to his cock and the sounds Rebecca made as she rocked onto her own fingers.  It was amazing, the way she managed to keep him just on edge, and he wished he had any idea whether or not she was doing it on purpose.  He didn’t think he could have done this to her if he tried, but then, he also had no way of knowing what it felt like for her.

He ran his fingers through her hair, unwilling to put any sort of pressure on her, but also unable to keep himself from touching her any way he could.  She mewled, looking up at him while she sucked his cock.  Rebecca was all big eyes and pouting lips and it was all he could do to not bury himself as deep as he could in her mouth.  As it was he thrust, just ever so slightly, and was surprised when she moaned around him rather than stopping.  Honestly, James wasn’t sure what was more exciting for him, the way she was sucking and licking at his cock, or the knowledge that she trusted him to not take more than she was willing (and eager, if the moaning was anything to go by) to give.

He thought he might be about to finish, his eyes closed tight and his head thrown back, fingers still tangled in Rebecca’s hair…and then she stopped.  Pulled her mouth off him with a slight slurp so that he was staring at her in shock and not more than a bit of pain.  So much so that he didn’t react when she climbed onto his lap again, only realising what she was going to do as she was doing it.

“No! You don — oh Merlin.”  He was throbbing, thrusting, groaning, holding her tight against him and burying his face in her neck as the sensation of sliding into her overwhelmed him.  He didn’t imagine it could be good for her, the way he was simply fucking up into her pussy, as hard and fast as he could, but he also couldn’t seem to stop himself.  He only hoped she wouldn’t be too afraid of him after to let him do something, anything, for her.

Then he was no longer capable of even subconscious thought, his hips straining upward, trying to bury himself as deep inside her as he could while his cock throbbed and pulsed.

Rebecca was resting against his chest when he came back to himself.  She was smiling, almost smug, with her head on his shoulder and one hand playing with the buttons of his robes.  Her lips were wonderfully red and swollen, her hair coming undone from whatever careful style it had been in when he first saw her.  He wasn’t sure what it was, something with a bow that allowed it to be clear of her face while still streaming down her back.  Whatever it was, its destruction combined with her swollen lips to make her look wonderfully debauched.  He’d have to remember to ask Father to ensure she and her sister always had hair bows.  Something about how it now hung loose, and slipped away when he pulled just slightly, made him think he might be up for yet another round, if given a bit of time to recover.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered, gently kissing the shoulder he had bared what seemed like a lifetime ago.  “I was going to wait, make sure you were ready.”  He frowned, realising something.  “I certainly was going to ensure we were in a bed when it happened.”

Rebecca giggled.  “I wanted to.”  She looked up at him, eyes soft and happy.  “I really, really wanted to.  I never got to want to before.”

Well.  How was he supposed to argue with that?

“Are you…” he trailed off, blushing at what he wanted to ask, no matter that he could still feel her, warm and soft against his cock.  “I mean, can I do something for you?  Like before?”

She blushed, ducking her head further into his shoulder.  “I already did.  When you were.”

James stared at her.  She…there was no way.  He was certain he would have realised, he thought it must be hard to miss, if it felt on his cock anything like it did on his fingers.

“You don’t have to lie,” he said.  “I really do want you to enjoy yourself too.”  He paused, considering.  “Or, if you didn’t and you don’t want to, you can say that too and we can kiss or eat or play a game or…I don’t know, exactly.”  What on earth did people do when they were done fucking?  None of his books said anything about that.  They just went on about closeness and feelings and making sure the girl was comfortable.  Well, he supposed he was trying to make sure she was comfortable now, and that required listening now that she’d started speaking.

“I — I wouldn’t mind if you did what I did to you.”  Oh, she was somehow even more attractive when she blushed.  He’d have to see if he could make her shy more often.

“What you did to me?”  He was fairly sure he knew what she meant, but he couldn’t help seeing if he could make her blush even more.

Instead she huffed at him, big blue eyes narrowed with annoyance.  So much for that.  “You know,” she said, “with your mouth.”

Even just hearing her say that much made James twitch, just slightly.  “Is it ok if I take off your dress?” he asked.  “And go into the bedroom?  It’s much more comfortable in there.”

Instead of responding, Rebecca kissed him, hard and deep as she started unbuttoning his robes.  Well, that was new.  He thought he rather liked this somewhat more aggressive girl, even if he wasn’t sure where she came from.

It was quick work to untie the bow at the back of Rebecca’s dress, though the buttons gave him a bit of trouble and he ended up having to ask her to stand up and turn around.  He kissed down her spine as he went, enjoying the way she sighed with each press of his lips.  Lifting her dress up over her head was easier than expected and then he had a fully nude girl standing in front of him, her shoes having been lost somewhere along the way.

She was stunning, he didn’t know how his father had managed to pick such a wonderful girl without the ability to undress her.  Her legs were long and lithe, leading to the softest beginnings of hair between her legs.  There was just a touch of softness around her middle, which James attempted to suck and kiss while she stood in front of him.  She was nearly as flat as a boy, the budding of her breasts still subtle, but when he gently sucked one nipple she gasped and pressed his head closer to her.  He loved her freckles and the way her hair had a wave to it that was only really apparent when it was free like this, falling softly around her face.  He couldn’t help but slide his fingers between her legs, pressing gently into her as he licked and sucked at her nipples, even going so far as to carefully nip at one — something that made delicious shivers run down Rebecca’s spine.

When her sighs turned to whimpers he stopped, smiling up at her as he removed the robes she’d already unbuttoned.  He nearly forgot to fully take off his shoes and underthings, stumbling a bit when he stood and making Rebecca laugh.  It was a high, comfortable, delighted laugh, one he couldn’t imagine her making even just an hour ago.  Of course, he had to retaliate, and did so by picking her up and swinging her over his shoulder the way he did to Wendy when he wanted to make her giggle.  She was so small, the difference between them wasn’t as big as between his sisters.

Rebecca’s legs kicked playfully at him as she shrieked and laughed, not actually trying to hurt him or get free, but also unwilling to lose their game.  James carried her to his bedroom, lightly smacking her bum once before dropping her on his bed.  Merlin, the way she looked laying on his bed, all pale skin and mussed up hair.  He knew that it wouldn’t take long for him to be aching and hard again, his cock already twitching slightly in spite of itself.  He found himself  nearly lunging to lay beside her, pulling her against him so he could feel her skin against his as they kissed.

It was bloody brilliant.  He hadn’t thought he could feel anything better today, it already being the best day he’d ever had, but being able to feel Rebecca’s skin against his, feeling her chest press against him and her legs shift to twine with his own, that somehow managed to beat out even being inside her.  It was so much more intense, his nerves tingling at every point of contact.  He didn’t think he ever wanted either of them to put on clothes again.

When Rebecca began to thrust against his leg, softly rolling her hips as she whimpered into his mouth, he remembered what they had gone to the bedroom for.  Slowly, he kissed his way down her body, suckling at her neck and just behind her ear and the part just above her collarbone that made her sigh.  He lapped at her nipples, suckling and biting and pinching until her hips started thrusting gently into the air.  Her legs were spread wide now, her lips parted and panting slightly as she looked down at him.  He continued licking her nipples, trying and failing to keep eye contact as he moved his hand between her legs.

He just barely grazed her clit, smiling when she rewarded him with more whimpers.  He didn’t think she was desperate yet, not from just that, but he was determined to get her there before he let her finish.  He wanted her to feel what he did, that building and teasing before falling apart that she managed to bring out in him.

Which was why when he finally kissed his way down her body, softly circling her clit the entire time, he sucked and bit at her inner thighs, completely avoiding her centre.  He could feel her getting frustrated, almost glaring down at him when he pressed a kiss just at the crease where her leg and body met, then moved directly to her other leg.  She was bucking slightly now, trying to get his hand to slip lower or rub harder.  When that failed she went so far as to grip his hair and try to move his head where she wanted — a move that made him laugh against her thigh.

It was when she huffed and collapsed back down on the bed from where she had been propped up on her forearms to watch him that he finally gave in.  Pressing her thighs up gently until she bent her knees so that she was tilted towards him more, he licked from her entrance to her clit, making her gasp and tense before moaning, loud and long.  It was ridiculous what that sound did to him, making him hard almost on command.  He found himself groaning as he sucked at her clit, making her moan in return and starting a loop of reinforced pleasure.

James tried to find what she enjoyed with his mouth the same way he had with his fingers, trying all manner of things and seeing how she responded.  She loved when he pressed his tongue against the underside of her clit, moaned when he sucked gently, but pulled away with a hiss if he went too hard.  But what made her scream, forcing her hips up against his mouth, was when he lapped at her entrance while pressing his fingers inside her.  That brought her to the edge, right where James tried to keep her, babbling and desperate and wanting.

He licked and sucked until his jaw was sore, managing to work three fingers inside her and finding a spot that made her groan if he pressed against it.  He was going to finally let her fall, her whimpers starting to sound too pained for his comfort, when she grabbed his hair and pulled him up to kiss her, panting and frantic.

“Please,” Rebecca whispered against his lips, “inside, please.”  She bucked her hips up against him, moaning when his cock rubbed between her legs and making it quite clear what she was asking for.

Well.  James wasn’t about to turn that down.  He guided himself into her, still not quite trusting that he could find the way without his hands to feel where her entrance was.  He tried to go slow, carefully watching Rebecca’s face for the least sign of discomfort, but was urged faster by her hands on his waist.  After that he was aware only of competing desires to rut, hard and fast and deep, until he came and to hold out long enough to ensure Rebecca was taken care of.

She was wonderful, hot and tight and wet, better than his embarrassingly fast first time because now, despite his arousal, he was able to think clearly enough to enjoy it.  Enjoy her hips moving against his and her moans when he moved in a way she liked.

It was rather difficult to move in a way she liked.  James thought she was still enjoying herself, she was still whimpering and pressing herself closer against him anyway, but where he was growing increasingly more desperate, Rebecca seemed to only be on edge, unable to find the push she needed to fall.

He didn’t want to finish before her.  Not again.  Not when the entire reason for coming in here was her enjoyment.  He was a Potter and he was going to be a Gryffindor and he couldn’t live with the shame if his father ever found out he’d let a girl go twice without release.

He pulled out, laying on his back and pulling her on top of him when she whimpered in frustration.

“Here,” he said, settling her across his hips, “do what feels good.”

Rebecca was nearly crying now, she was so overstimulated.  He had to pull her onto him and softly rock her hips against him before she caught on.

Then she picked herself up nearly all the way off him and slammed down so fast it took his breath away.  She was bouncing on his cock, head thrown back and hair flying.  Bloody hell, it never would have occurred to him to try this.  He’d be concerned about her injuring herself if it wasn’t so obvious that it was exactly what she needed.  He tried to raise his hands to her breast, stroke her clit, something to help push her that much closer, but couldn’t manage, she was so frantic.  Rebecca was quite clearly using his body as she liked and he was just along for the ride.

He thought he might feel a bit…dirty…if it didn’t feel so good.  He quickly found himself wanting to grab her hips and thrust up into her, fucking her as deep and fast as he could.  Only the knowledge that he’d never be able to last kept him from doing it.  Instead he fisted his hands in his bedspread, bucking only slightly when he absolutely couldn’t help himself.  Merlin, he hoped she finished soon because this was almost too good.

Then she did.  Suddenly and intensely, her mouth open in a silent scream as she tensed and ground down hard onto him, once, twice, three times, before collapsing on his chest.  Her pussy throbbing around him, clenching his cock almost painfully, was too much for him and he finally gave in.  Holding her tight against his chest, he pounded into her, accidentally (though happily) fucking her into a second orgasm, this one more a soft thrum of pleasure than the shattering she had felt before.  James was a moment behind her, the renewed contractions of her body sending him over the edge.

After that it was like a dam had burst.  The next fortnight was spent in a haze of skin and sweat and arousal interrupted only by food and sleep.  Father was so kind as to excuse James from meals with the family, sending Hatty to his rooms with food at the appropriate times.  He learnt that Rebecca liked to be fucked, hard and fast and deep.  He also learnt that, while he enjoyed it sometimes, he rather preferred taking his time.

Oh, it was fun, pressing her face into the mattress and pounding her into from behind.  He quite liked taking her against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist.  He would never turn down the way she liked to wake him in the mornings, sucking him until he was murmuring in his sleep, then sinking down onto him just as he opened his eyes.  It was only…he thought he might like something more.

Which was why he found himself in his Father’s study, two weeks after his birthday.  Father was still at breakfast, but James knew he liked to come up here after, get an early start on the correspondence and paperwork he had to do as head of House Potter.  That morning had been nice.  Rebecca woke him up like always, and he’d made her come three times before giving in himself.  A new record, he was rather proud.  They’d had their own breakfast with her sitting on his lap, slowly grinding into him until he took her across the table.  Then they’d gone again in the shower, James only barely able to keep them from falling when he came.  It had been surprisingly difficult to leave his rooms, Rebecca pouting when he gently pushed her away to get dressed.  Even telling her she should visit her sister — who hadn’t seen her for two weeks, after all — didn’t help.  She simply dropped to her knees and mouthed at his prick, saying she’d rather stay with him.  James had been forced to press her into an armchair and tell her that he was going to see his Father and Hatty would take her to visit her sister while he was away.

He thought it might have only excited her more.

“Why look!  It’s my son!  And here I thought we wouldn’t be seeing you until May, at least.”  James was brought out of his musings by his father entering the study.  “No no,” he said, as James started to rise, “keep your seat.  I’d imagine you’re rather worn out.”  He called for tea and set about preparing cups for both of them before sitting back and looking at James.  “So,” he said, “what brings you out of your rooms so soon after your birthday?”

James fidgeted, looking down at his tea as he tried to think of how to put his…not lack of interest, but…desire for something different into words.  Ideally without sounding ungrateful for what truly was a brilliant gift.

“Is…is it normal for a girl to always want to be…rough?”

Fleamont laughed, further spurred on when James glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest.  Oh, to be young and inexperienced again.

“Sometimes,” he said, reigning in his amusement in an attempt to save some of his son’s pride.  “It does depend on the girl.  All of them are a bit different and like different things.  Why?  Are you finding yourself unsatisfied by your gift?”

“Not unsatisfied exactly.”  James took a sip of his tea, again trying to find the right words.  It was just all so new and uncomfortable.  “Only, Rebecca quite likes it…rough.  And it’s fun, but…I think I might like something different.”

“Ah.  Yes, that is a common problem.”  Fleamont looked at James, proud of the new sense of maturity he had about him.  Only a month ago the boy would have been far too proud to come to his father with a question like this, preferring to get his information from the boys his age with older brothers.  “Have you tried simply doing something you think you might like?  You don’t have to be forceful if you don’t want to be, you know.”

James gaped openly at him for a moment, before remembering himself and regaining his composure.  “But you said I should make sure the girl always enjoys it!”

There it was.  Of course James had misunderstood, Fleamont forgot what it was like for everything to be  new and confusing.  Sometimes he wished he had a younger brother, someone a bit closer to James’ age, who could help him with these things.

“You should,” he said, “but not at the expense of yourself.  Try going slow with Rebecca .  You never know, she might like it.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Well,” Fleamont considered, “I’d imagine if she enjoys rough, she probably also enjoys when you take charge, correct?  Tell her what to do a little?”

James thought back to that morning, then nodded.  Yes, she certainly seemed to enjoy when he was forceful, whether physically or verbally.

“Then be forceful.  Dominant.  Tell her she’s not allowed to do more than lay back and enjoy herself.”  Fleamont paused for a moment, adding an admonishment he didn’t think was necessary at this point, but couldn’t allow to go unsaid.  “But James,” he said, waiting for his son to look him in the eye before continuing.  “Even when you play those sorts of games, you still are not to do anything she doesn’t want.  Tease, yes, but only as much as she can handle and never if she asks you to stop.  Understood?”

“Of course!”  James took a deep breath, then said what he’d known since his birthday he’d have to say when he saw his father again.  “I’m sorry I implied I’d just…do whatever I wanted with a girl.  I wouldn’t, I swear.”

Fleamont smiled.  He hadn’t been expecting James to actually apologise.  He’d already been forgiven, of course, Fleamont was well aware his son had simply been having one of his occasional spoilt outbursts, but it was nice to hear anyway.  “I know you wouldn’t.  Thank you for apologising, I know how difficult you find it.”  He paused, considering his son.  James clearly had more on his mind, from the way he was still fiddling with his teacup.  Drove his mother mad, that did, she was always telling him to be more mindful, that proper young wizards kept their hands still and did not fidget.  Fleamont, however, rather liked that he still had a few childish habits.  They would fade soon enough, and then their son would be a man.  He was already showing signs of it, catching himself fiddling and deliberately setting his cup and saucer on the table next to him.

“Father,” he said hesitantly, “Do you think Rebecca’s…preferences…are because of what she went through in the orphanage?  Will Wendy be the same way?”  James didn’t much like the thought of sweet, gentle, cuddly Wendy being used the way Rebecca enjoyed.  Didn’t like the thought of his baby sister being with any boys at all, actually, but he knew that would be happening regardless.  He’d have to make sure Mother picked her coming of age gifts carefully.  Maybe a wizard to start, like for Sarah.  He thought one of the Prewett twins might work.  Fabian probably, he was less of an arse than his brother.

“I don’t think so.”  Fleamont’s voice broke through James’ thoughts.  “It’s possible, of course, but James, sometimes girls simply enjoy a bit of rough.  Boys often do too.  In fact,” he waited until James was looking at him before continuing.  “There aren’t many boys your age who would object to a girl who liked that.  Makes it easier for you, doesn’t it?”

James shrugged.  “I suppose.  It doesn’t give you much time to enjoy it though.  I’ve tried, but the way Rebecca likes it…”

Fleamont smiled.  His son was so much like his mother, for all that James looked like him in miniature.  “It does go fast that way, doesn’t it?  Try what I suggested.  Take control.  Experiment.  There are a lot of ways to be with a girl, you’ve only just started to discover them.”

James nodded, finishing the last of his tea before rising from his chair.  “Thank you, Father.  I’ll try what you said.”

“That’s a good lad.  See your sisters before you go back to your rooms, they’ve missed you.”  Fleamont waited until James got to the door before saying, “And James?  What your sisters may or may not like as they get older is none of your concern.  Understood?”

“But —”

“No.  It is their business, not yours.  You will put it out of your mind.”

James sighed.  “Yes, Father.  Could you at least suggest Fabian Prewett to Mother for Wendy?”  he steeled himself, being sure to look directly at his father so he knew he was serious.  “Rebecca was terrified at first, even of being in the same room together.  Wendy’s so small, I don’t think a muggle boy would be right for her, not to start.”

“Fabian Prewett?  Not Gideon?”  Fleamont knew James had always been closer to Gideon, for all that the boys tended to fight.

“Yes.  He’s nicer than Gideon, more patient.”  James left out that he’d received owls from both boys the day before his birthday.  Gideon had complained about how Fabian was already allowed his second girl, while their father said he was still not ready.  Fabian’s new girl was reluctant, from the sounds of it she’d gone to some sort of muggle religious school before her parents died and she ended up at the orphanage.  She kept going on about how what Fabian wanted to do was bad and dirty and they’d be punished for it.  Fabian said he was quite enjoying the challenge, not the least frustrated that it had been a week and he’d still only managed to kiss her.  James thought that was exactly the kind of boy Wendy should have.

“I shall pass the note along to your mother.”  Fleamont smiled at James, proud of how much he’d grown in just a few weeks.  Oh, he’d accepted his sisters, but it had been somewhat grudging, even after Wendy had warmed him up a bit.  Now Fleamont thought he might actually see them as members of the family, not the people who were taking his place as he left for Hogwarts.

“And may I have permission to thrash any boy who hurts her or Sarah?”

Fleamont chuckled.  “Yes, brat, you may thrash anyone who hurts your sisters — but only if they show they can’t take care of themselves.  Your sisters are not weak, James.  You will allow them first chance at any boy who hurts them.”

James grinned.  “I can do that.  Bet Sarah will be terrifying, once she gets her wand.”

Fleamont privately agreed.  The girl was already showing signs of higher than average magical power, easily floating dolls and toys over to herself.  He had no doubt that with  a wand she’d be a force to be reckoned with.  If not for Euphemia’s concerns about rushing her coming of age he’d have put in a request to have her start Hogwarts in September with James.  As it was he planned to hire a team of tutors so that she might skip directly into second year.  He’d likely also have to heavily supplement her education with duelling, help burn off some of that excess magic.

To his son, however, he simply said, “Is that all?  Or would you like to look over the accounts, tell me which businesses to invest in?”

“No,” James laughed, “You already said I’ll have to start learning all that rot next year.  I’ll just go visit the girls.”  He went to leave, then turned back at the last moment.  “Oh, I did forget two things.  Could you make sure the younger girl meets Hatty?  Rebecca was afraid when she first saw her.”

Fleamont raised his eyebrows.  Somehow he hadn’t considered how muggle girls might react to house elves.  Wendy and Sarah had simply accepted them as part of being witches, he’d assumed the muggle girls would be the same.  “Yes, I can do that.  And the second thing?”

James tried to ignore the blush he knew was spreading across his face as he said, “When I’m allowed to have her, could you make sure she has a bow in her hair?  And that she and Rebecca always have bows in their hair when they’re not with me?  The big floppy ones, like they were wearing on my birthday.”

“Bows you say?”  Fleamont was rather surprised at that particular request.  James had certainly never shown any interest when his sisters wore hair bows, which they did regularly.  If he had Fleamont would have had words with him.

“Yes.  It’s just,” James was certain his face couldn’t get any hotter, “I rather like when they fall out.  You know, after you’ve started and the girl’s hair gets all messy.”

Now Fleamont understood.  He thought back, to a memory of accidentally walking in on Euphemia with one of her coming of age gifts — the first boy, who she’d kept until they decided to start trying for children.  The boy was wearing a muggle costume of some kind, charcoal grey trousers with a patterned waistcoat, white shirt, and some sort of neck piece that looked like a cross between a handkerchief and a tie.  They had already discarded the matching coat, which was now flung on a chair across the room.  Euphemia was looking at the way the boy’s tie had started to come undone with the sort of hunger Fleamont would only learn to elicit after they’d been engaged nearly a year.  Later, long after the boy had been sent back to the muggle world with highly ranked qualifications and letters of recommendation from the tutors her family had hired for him, she had admitted that part of what excited her was the disarray.  The way a boy’s (man’s, by this point) hair stood up after she’d run her hands through it, or how his tie was askew after she’d loosened it to kiss his neck.  She liked the contrast between innocence and sensuality as well, the obvious desire in the eyes of a boy wearing a school uniform or other costume, but what was truly important was the disarray.  It was initially why she was drawn to him, with his perpetually mussed Potter hair.

“Your girls shall have bows if you want them,” he said.  “White dresses as well?  With sashes around the waist, lace on the bodice.  Perhaps white gloves and shoes?”  He watched as James’ eyes started to glaze over at the mental image.  Yes, he certainly was his mother’s son.

“Not the gloves, I don’t think, but the rest…yes.  Yes, that sounds perfect.”

“I shall tell Hatty.  Off with you now, I’ve work to do.”

James grinned, dipping a quick bow at his Father before going to visit with his sisters.  Then, after he had done that, he was going to go back to his rooms and show Rebecca that slow could be just as much fun as rough.