Chapter Text
“… It’s been a while since our last session, Harry.”
Harry’s lips twitch in amusement, even as he looks up into Hermione’s expressive brown eyes. It’s funny. He had thought the insecurity would look more appealing on her, but now that he was actually seeing it… he didn’t appreciate it nearly as much as he had believed he would. Instead, it makes him feel just a little guilty.
Not enough to show it though. Certainly not enough to squirm as he stares back at her.
“That it has. The abrupt end of our last session made me think that we needed a bit of a break, Prefect Granger.”
Hermione’s lips thin out at that and she looks away for a moment. Her hands curl in her skirts, and her indecision is as plain as day. He’s considering whether to call her out on it or not when Hermione takes the choice right out of his hands.
“What do you want from me, Harry? What do you truly want?”
When she looks back at him, Harry wordlessly tilts his head to the side and lifts a single questioning eyebrow. In response, the Gryffindor Prefect scowls and crosses her arms over her chest.
“I’m not stupid, you know. I’m not… I know you’ve been busy with others recently. Just as I also know by now that you’re more than capable of making time for me… if you want to. So what is it? What are your intentions towards me? I’ve seen the way you interact with others. I KNOW what other girls do for you. And yet, even with this short period apart, you’ve invested much more time in me than Lavender or Parvati. And for what? Some casual kissing and a few handjobs?”
She’s really letting it all out now. Far be it from Harry to stop her when she’s on a roll. Smiling softly, Harry lifts a hand and rolls it, silently telling her to go on. Hermione flushes, seemingly uncertain of whether to be insulted or emboldened. In the end, she continues all the same.
“I know I’m neither the most attractive in my year nor the most popular. Especially not after Lavender and Parvati started spending time with you. I’m not an idiot, I know you’ve done something to them. So why haven’t you made me… more to your liking? Especially when it’s not just them either. You’ve been sleeping your way through most of the upperclassmen in my year and the Seventh Year. Not only that, but you’ve even started locking down the other Gryffindor Prefects! Ron Weasley is beside himself with Hero Worship, just to name one example! And… and…”
Hermione lets out a shuddering breath and gives him a look.
“I get what you’re doing, you know. The age gap might be large now, but it won’t matter so much in another half a decade, will it? And yet, what I don’t get is why you’re investing so much time in ME in particular.”
Finally, she falls silent. She looks at him, imploring him to speak. And so Harry does, a soft smile on his youthful face as he reaches out and takes one of Hermione’s hands in his own, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“You want to know why, Hermione? Simple, really. You’re one of the few people in this school with a brain.”
Hermione flushes at the incredibly blatant praise. Too blatant, some might say… but for someone like Hermione, it was precisely what she needed to hear. After a moment, she dips her head, clearly biting down on the impulse to be self-deprecating and deny his words.
“… Thank you.”
Harry just grins, his soft smile becoming a little wicked. Though on his boyish features, that just make him look precocious like usual.
“It’s the truth. You’re muggleborn. You have none of the preconceived notions of what’s possible and what’s not. You aren’t bound by the magical world’s limitations. The only bindings are the ones you let bind you, such as your over-reliance on books.”
Hermione presses her lips together at that, but doesn’t say anything, letting him continue his explanation.
“What you consider your weaknesses in our world are your strengths as far as I’m concerned. Your marginalization gives you incentive to work harder, and your latent desire to change how people in this world act and behave, to change how magical society itself functions… well, it overall meshes nicely with my goals.”
That brings a gasp to Hermione’s lips, a look of honest hope appearing in the older girl’s eyes.
“It… it does?”
Harry just nods his head, rubbing soothing circles into the back of Hermione’s hand with his thumb.
“You aren’t the only one who sees the wrongs in this world of ours, nor are you the only one who wants to change things Hermione. I just needed to get to know you a little better first, to make sure I could trust you. I also needed to teach you a better method of working people. You’ve learned a lot from me, haven’t you? How to look for holes, how to make pinpricks of light in the tapestry that is our world, rather than blunt action that will just result in you running head first into a wall. You’ve made leaps and bounds so far.”
It shouldn’t have felt so good, given the difference in their ages. He was talking down to her, even as he talked her up. And yet, for Hermione Granger… it was everything that she needed to hear. And no matter Harry’s age, she could appreciate his perspective. In fact, she appreciated it a lot and not just because he was speaking her language.
Chuckling, Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle as he gives her a crooked smile.
“You ask why I have yet to… give you the gifts I’ve given others. I suppose I didn’t want to come on too strong. But also, you aren’t nearly as unattractive as you think you are, Prefect Granger. Still, what I appreciate about those other witches is very different from what I appreciate about you. I enjoy you for what’s on the inside. I enjoy you for your mind, for your sense of right and wrong… and for your ability to tell me no. To deny me.”
That causes Hermione to furrow her brow a little bit.
“… Is it truly that novel of a thought?”
Harry grins and before he even nods, she knows it is.
“Oh yes. Part of it is being unaware of exactly what I am and what I’m capable of, but even still… you have a strong sense of character, Hermione Granger. You’re not afraid to make your mark, to stamp your will upon the world and in the face of demands to change set your feet and say ‘no! you change!’. I like that about you. It’s an essential trait of a Potter Bride.”
THAT gets Hermione’s attention. The brunette bookworm sputters and stammers, pulling back a little bit, suddenly very uncertain of herself. Harry just sighs and lets her pull her hand from his grasp before giving her a wry smile.
“Not to worry, Prefect Granger. That’s still far off in the distance, isn’t it? And it’s not like I’m expecting you to agree to marry me right this moment… to be clear, I’m not even asking yet.”
His words are only of small comfort to Hermione, who blushes furiously at the word ‘yet’. Humming, Harry looks off to the side for a moment before nodding to himself.
“Shall I tell you what you need to know, Prefect Granger? About me and my family? It’s honestly only fair. The only reason you don’t know already is because you’re a muggleborn. House Potter’s capabilities are something of an open secret in the magical world, the sort of thing that those in the know pass down to their children and their children’s children. You deserve the truth… if you think you’re ready for it.”
Here's the thing. Hermione knows she’s being played. Harry can tell from the way her face twists and turns. She looks like she’s sucked on something sour for a moment before giving him a half-hearted scowl. In the end, she can’t hold back her curiosity though. She is who she is, just as he is who he is.
“… Tell me.”
Harry nods… and tells her. Not everything, of course. Just the things she would know about his family if she were born into the magical world. It’s only fair, as he’d said. He explains House Potter’s role in politics, he explains how they’ve long been a powerful force in Wizarding Britain and indeed in many magical communities beyond just the British Isles.
He also explains what it is Potter Magic can do for a witch physically. How it can reshape them and sculpt them into their ideal self. How it can make them more beautiful, extend their lives, and all around give them greater influence then they would otherwise have. He even explains what he gets out of it, how they become Potter Witches, swearing their loyalty to him in exchange for their gifts. And that’s what it is, in the end. A full exchange. Equivalent? Perhaps, but that was something only each of the witches themselves could decide.
He can honestly tell Hermione that he’s never met a Potter Witch who’s unhappy with their circumstances at least. But at the same time, he’s still coming into his own.
Harry further explains to Hermione that much of the problems she has with the Wizarding World of today have come about as a result of House Potter’s influence greatly diminishing in the wake of his parents’ and grandparents’ death. If his father or grandfather had still lived, Harry had no doubt that things would have been running a lot smoother.
However, in their absence, with Harry still growing up, the past decade had seen quite a lot of dysfunction as everyone tried to get their piece of the pie. Dumbledore. Fudge. The Malfoys. And those were just a few who had gone out of their way to make things worse for everyone else while bettering things for themselves.
Of course, Hermione took some issue with that.
“Headmaster Dumbledore is a Champion of Muggleborn Rights, Harry! I don’t know what you mean by bettering things for himself!”
Harry smiles softly and shakes his head.
“Albus Dumbledore is not an inherently evil man, Hermione. In fact, by the standards of children, he’s quite Good indeed. But that’s just it. Good and Evil, Black and White… the real world doesn’t work like that. There are indisputably evil acts, but not evil people. People are just people. Dumbledore doesn’t truly understand that.”
Hermione opens her mouth, but Harry cuts her off with a raised hand.
“Oh, he talks a big game about redemption and the Greater Good. He wants to give everyone a second chance… namely, a second chance to join HIS side. Because in his eyes, the Greater Good is only what he makes of it, Hermione. It’s only his narrow view of how the world should be and how it should work. I won’t try and claim that he’s no better than his opponents, because he IS. But that won’t stop him from killing me if he decides it must be done.”
Gaping, the brunette Prefect shakes her head furiously.
“K-Killing you?! But why?!”
He just nods, a look too solemn for his young face nevertheless spread across it.
“Because House Potter has always been too powerful in his eyes. Because we don’t toe the party line. We’ve historically been part of the same coalition as him in the Wizengamot, but we’ve also always held a sway over the other side. Our influence and reach cannot be understated, Hermione. And to Dumbledore, who has spent the last eleven years trying his best to unravel that influence and keep me from my birthright… it can’t be allowed to continue.”
Hermione is quiet as he finishes talking. Thoughtful, even. At least she’s considering what he has to say. Harry, fully prepared to give her more time to process everything he’s told her, opens his mouth to end things here for the day. But before he can do so, Hermione abruptly slips down to the floor and kneels between his legs, grabbing hold of his knees and spreading them apart.
“… What are you doing, Prefect Granger?”
Pausing, Hermione looks up at him for a moment before speaking.
“I think when you call me ‘Prefect Granger’ it’s not meant as a respectful use of my title, but as a defense mechanism to distance yourself from your feelings for me, Harry. And I think from now on, at least in private, you should only call me Hermione.”
He’s so rarely been put on the backfoot so damn effectively. Harry doesn’t quite blush, but his eyes do widen a bit as Hermione gives him a crooked smile of her own and pulls open his robes to begin working on his trousers. As her hands deftly move to free his cock from its confines, the young wizard licks his lips.
“I’ll admit, I imagined you would need more time before we took the next step in our relationship Hermione… if we got the chance to take it at all.”
Hermione, finally pulling his cock out, slaps it against her cheek before beginning to nuzzle it. A step up from the handjobs and kissing they’d engaged in so far, to say the least. Humming, she gives him a hooded look.
“You imagined wrong, Harry. I appreciate honesty. I appreciate forthrightness. I always have. You trusted me with so much more than I could have imagined. You laid yourself bare before me, told me your fears and your worries. Is it any wonder that I want to comfort you after all you’ve done for me in turn?”
Harry sits there quietly at that. Was that what he’d done? Perhaps not intentionally, but looking back… yes, he had sort of let Hermione know that he was afraid of Albus Dumbledore, hadn’t he? He’d laid most of his cards out on the table, but he hadn’t expected her to want to… comfort him over it.
When Hermione Granger finally pulls back and slips his cock between her lips, Harry groans. He can immediately think of a dozen ways to improve her physically, of course. Her mouth alone is far from perfect, and he could easily make it perfect with Potter Magic. But… no sooner have those thoughts come to him then does he discard them. He doesn’t want to change her right now. He doesn’t even want to think about changing her.
Eventually? Probably. If to cure Hermione of her insecurities regarding her physical appearance more than anything else. Harry will be all too happy to make Hermione as perfect as she wants to be. In fact, he can already imagine it. Them, together, working on sculpting her into an idealized version of herself. With most of the women he’s been… playing with recently, from Lavender to Parvati to all other sorts of Gryffindor witches and beyond besides… Harry hasn’t asked for their input.
Oh sure, some of them have had suggestions. And he’s even taken some of those suggestions into consideration too. But for most of them, Harry has ignored their own desires and done what he felt was best. The end result was always better for it too. No matter how he changed them, they were always happier by the time he was done then they would have been if he’d given them any true say in the enhancements.
But Hermione was different. And not just because she was currently tickling her own tonsils with his cock. As the brunette bookworm dives down his sizable member again and again, Harry can’t help smiling fondly at her. Still, it’s not the blowjob that’s influencing him. He has, after all, had plenty of blowjobs from plenty of witches with ten times Hermione’s technique and a mouth sculpted to be perfect for sucking dick by Potter Magic.
The difference between them and Hermione is that Hermione knows. She understands. She’s… different. There was a reason he’d used the words Potter Bride instead of Potter Witch. Hermione had the potential to be his wife, once he was older and could marry. Just like his own mother before her, the brunette bookworm was fresh eyes and new blood. Something that House Potter had ALWAYS appreciated.
Like his father before him with Lily Evans, Harry saw in Hermione Granger potential that could very well shake the Wizarding World to its core. She was precisely the sort of addition that House Potter needed right now.
… And of course, for all her imperfections and inexperience, her mouth did feel quite good wrapped around his cock as it was. Harry can only groan as Hermione slides up and down his member. He’s tempted to place a hand atop her head, but he holds himself back. Not only is he convinced he wouldn’t be able to keep from taking control, he’s also not certain he would be able to resist making changes to her if he got his hands on her.
No, this first time needed to be all Hermione. Not just her decision to begin things, but from start to finish, she needed to be the one pushing things along. And boy was she doing that. Harry could admit, there was something almost… fun about having such an imperfect but enthusiastic experience. She didn’t have half of the benefits Potter Witches had, but she was still eager and trying her best as she submitted to him there on her hands and knees.
That in and of itself was admirable and very arousing for the young Potter Lord. In the end, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Hermione… I’m getting close!”
Hermione’s brown eyes flicker up to him at that, and she hesitates for a moment… before diving down on his cock even harder. It’s only then that Harry realizes just how much she must have seen when she caught him with Lavender and Parvati. Because he’s not entirely sure Hermione Granger would have decided to swallow his load all on her own. It wasn’t the kind of thing one could usually expect from a first timer as it were.
In the end though, that’s exactly what she does. She makes him cum a few moments later with her enthusiasm, and then proceeds to drink down his seed, not hesitating for even a moment to guzzle and guzzle until there’s nothing left. By the time she’s finished, Harry lets out a contented sigh, his eyes glittering with amusement as Hermione’s cheeks balloon outward. She’d tried to swallow it all, but there was a bit too much too fast for her.
Still, she endeavors not to spill a drop, drinking down his cum even as she pulls back off of his cock and presses her lips tight together. Harry watches her neck convulse as she swallows, until finally her cheeks have deflated and she’s sitting back on her heels looking uncertain of whether to be pleased with herself or embarrassed.
Grinning, Harry reaches out and gently but firmly takes Hermione by the chin, making her go still as her breath hitches.
“You did well, Hermione. I’m glad we had this talk. I’m looking forward to more talks like it in the future.”
Hermione blushes at that and glances down at his cock, biting her lower lip.
“Do you mean talks… or ‘talks’, Harry?”
Blinking, Harry lets out a little laugh before letting go of her chin and withdrawing.
“Both, I would imagine. If you think I want you on your knees with my cock in your mouth twenty-four-seven, you’re sorely mistaken. You’d make for a poor advisor like that. There will always be pretty witches willing to debase themselves for my attention, Hermione. But there will only ever be one of you.”
Hermione’s chest puffs up at that, the muggleborn witch swelling with pride. Their little meeting lasts only a little longer before they finish exchanging pleasantries and take their leave from one another. But there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that it was one of the most productive days he’s had since coming to Hogwarts. Very productive indeed…
-x-X-x-
“Holy shit, that’s Draco’s mum? How did someone like her make someone like him?!”
“You shut your mouth, Weasley, before I curse it off!”
“What, Draco? Can’t handle eyes on your mother? Because I can assure you, everyone in the castle has taken a chance to stare at that ass as soon as they could.”
“Damn you, I’ll-!”
“Settle down now, students.”
As Narcissa Malfoy sweeps into the Potions Room, silence immediately falls and not just because they were talking about her before she arrived. Hogwarts’ new Potions Mistress and Head of House Slytherin smirks as she puts a bit more of a natural sway into her hips while making her way up to the front of the classroom. She hears more than one sharp intake of breath as the eyes of her students settle upon her hourglass figure, from her sizable hips to her perfect heart-shaped derriere.
Coming to a stop at the front of the classroom, the newly instated Professor whirls around and places one hand atop her exposed upper chest, the low cut of her robe showing off an expanse of pale skin and some cleavage. Her son and the Weasley boy are still standing, though only Draco is still glaring daggers at the Weasley. Ronald, on the other hand, is staring at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Which to be fair, Narcissa is quite certain that she is.
“Something the matter, boys? Take your seats.”
The two Sixth Years do so, neither aware that she’d heard their entire conversation along with everyone else for the last ten minutes before entering the classroom. A simple enough charm to cast, it allowed her to listen in and prepare her entrance accordingly.
Narcissa was not unaware of the… presence she gave off. She was not unaware that she gave off ‘hot MILF’ energy, as some of the kids were calling it these days. Just as she was not unaware that Draco objected quite strenuously to that assertion. Her darling boy felt obligated to defend her honor, especially from one such as Ronald Weasley.
She appreciated it, but at the same time, it was mostly irrelevant. Narcissa did not care if she was ogled by the students of Hogwarts. That was to be expected in fact, she WAS drop dead gorgeous after all. But she wasn’t here for them. Nor was she even here for her son, as he perhaps expected she was. And… even her husband did not fully understand why she’d come here.
As far as Lucius was concerned, Narcissa was at Hogwarts to find dirt on Dumbledore that would allow them to unseat the Headmaster once and for all. But Narcissa could care less about what Dumbledore was and was not getting up to, save for what it meant for her TRUE purpose here at Hogwarts.
Narcissa Malfoy had come to Hogwarts for one reason and one reason alone. Him. To test if he was worthy of her loyalty. To see if he was awake… or still blind to the truth. It had been a long, long time after all, and Narcissa had, unlike most of her peers, moved on. But the road she traveled was not one you could only go forward on. And she would not be so foolish as to keep such a narrowminded view of things. She would happily turn back… depending on what was in it for her.
Of course, that still begged the question. How much did HE know? How much was he aware of? And what would the Wizarding World look like once he was of age and fully came into his own?
-x-X-x-
Narcissa is not the only one with these questions on her mind. All across Magical Britain, rumors are swirling about. And then, quite suddenly… it’s not a rumor anymore. It’s confirmed. First by one, and then another. The Potter Heir has returned to them. And he’s beginning to come into his own.
Those in the know are beginning to slowly but surely stir from their long slumbers. All of them are opening their eyes for the first time, each just as curious as the last to see if the new Potter will be just as influential as his forebears.
Rumors spread through the Potteries. From the Clay Works to the Potion Labs, in the Fashion Houses and the Editor Rooms… and of course, the brothels. It’s not a complete surprise given the heir’s activities on the muggle side of things, but the division between muggle and magical business, even under House Potter, means it’s still rather out of the blue at the end of the day.
The Potter’s control over the Fourth Estate, aka the press and news media, had always been one of their strongest assets. Even with House Potter in the decline and the best efforts of their enemies, the Prophet and Wizarding Wireless had still spent the last decade plus working on priming the broader population to trust and adore Harry Potter above all others. Using Voldemort’s defeat and Harry’s fame as the Boy-Who-Lived as jump-off points, not only had the news media kept Harry in a positive light in the hearts and minds of the Wizarding World… but so had a number of publishing companies.
An entire generation of children, all around Harry’s age in fact, had grown up reading heroic stories about the Potter Heir at this point. They were all too ready to be wowed and amazed by the real deal, so long as he put even a modicum of effort into living up to their expectations.
Meanwhile, on the political side of things, Amelia Bones was starting to make sure her fellow Potter Loyalists in both the Ministry and the Wizengamot were aware that the sleeping House was finally waking up. And so too were their enemies.
It wasn’t so clean as to say battlelines were being drawn. This was more a situation of whether you were in a place where you could see the battlelines in the first place. But there was no denying that Harry Potter’s sudden presence at Hogwarts had lit a fire under those who had used House Potter’s absence to have their way for the past decade.
Some would be willing to bend the knee if it meant holding onto some of the things they had gained, but not everyone was so humble. Not everyone was capable of accepting that play time was over and daddy was home. Some wouldn’t be able to resist getting caught with their hands deep, DEEP in the cookie jar. And some were trying to mess with daddy’s wand, heedless of how it might blow up in their hands.
There would be a reckoning of some sort eventually. No doubt about that. But for now, everything was still stirring and waking up. Nothing was decided just yet. It was the calm before the storm, a time before the great upheaval that would soon come. And no one quite knew what was going to happen next.