Chapter Text
Of course, the Poker Night isn’t quite over. Everyone else might think it’s done, but Harry isn’t satisfied just yet. Still standing on the table, Harry turns away from the others, allowing Minerva and Poppy to recover each on their own time, and also allowing Aurora to get used to her new tail as it wags back and forth rather weakly.
In the end, he only has eyes for one woman right now… and that’s Septima Vector. The Arithmancy Professor is all bundled up, still sitting in her chair in a magical latex prison that completely cuts her off from the outside world. Sight, Sound, Touch, Smell and Taste… all five senses are cut off, putting her in a state of complete sensory deprivation.
It’s obvious to Harry that this is supposed to be the end of it as far as Septima and her fellow Potter Witches are concerned. This is the pinnacle for her, the preferred end result for any of these Poker Nights. She’s a horny little sensory deprivation slut who gets off on being completely and wholly cut off from the outside world. As well as abused by whatever the magical latex is doing under the hood so to speak.
But where her fellow Potter Witches might be happy to leave Septima in this state once she lost enough hands, Harry was not. There was a proper Potter Wizard at this Poker Night now, and that it was time for things to change.
Striding forward across the table, Harry reaches out and grabs Septima by her ponytail, yanking the bound, gagged, and completely covered woman forward. As he holds her by the base of her ponytail, his skin comes in contact with the magical latex that Aurora has covered her in. Immediately, Harry’s senses are beset by a huge load of data. It’s almost overwhelming, but he’s able to react in time and begin categorizing it before it can do much beyond give him a mild headache.
Said headache quickly fades away as Harry tilts his head to the side, the young wizard taking in what his magic is telling him. His Potter Magic is actually perfect for interfacing with this magical latex… but then, he suspects that’s rather the point. The spell that produces this material… it was probably designed by his father and taught to Aurora. Someone with Potter Magic had had a hand in making this magical latex.
He can tell everything Septima is experiencing right now this way. More than that, he finds it incredibly easy to seep his own magic into her confinement and take control of the entire experience. The large, thick phallic shapes that are currently penetrating her mouth, cunt, and ass fall under his control in a heartbeat.
First, he sets the ones in Septima’s ass and cunt to buzzing, making them vibrate in a way that has the sensory deprived Arithmancy Professor quaking in her seat. Then, he splits the rather large feelers that are currently writhing across every inch of her over-sensitized body a half dozen times. What starts out as hundreds of feelers becomes over a thousand smaller tendrils, further increasing the amount of sensory overload that she’s experiencing within her prison.
She might not be able to sense anything happening outside of the latex, but she’s certainly getting a lot within it.
Finally, Harry pulls the protrusion in her mouth away, and melts the ball-gag into a large O-ring gag. Her jaw remains stretched wide open, her plump lips parted for him, but now there’s a nice big hole where before there was a ball the size of a Snitch.
Smirking, Harry slides his throbbing manhood right into this hole, and groans as Septima’s tongue immediately sets to work writhing along the underside of it. By now, the cut-off Professor understands what’s happening. And even if she didn’t, she’s quite aware that there was only one person with a dick in the room when she’d been put in her current state.
As such, she eagerly submits to her Master despite not being able to see or hear him. But she can certainly taste him. And taste him she does, even as Harry thrusts into the back of her throat, fucking her face with reckless abandon.
There’s something to be said about having a woman staring up at you while you use her mouth to your heart’s content. And yet… there’s ALSO something to be said about the blank, featureless latex that Harry is staring into now. He can almost see his face in the shine coming off of the material thanks to the magical torchlight nearby. All the while, Septima’s tongue is putting in the effort, but her choking is muted by the latex, not managing to make it out through the stuffed O-ring gag.
There’s certainly an interesting element from the lack of input. Even if Septima knows its him, she can’t beg him to fuck her harder, or moan to show how much she’s enjoying herself. She can’t do much of anything at all in fact, because in the end, she’s trapped and helpless in the prison that Aurora has made for her.
Harry on the other hand, can do whatever he wants with her. And he does. Fucking her face is just the start, using her mouth for his pleasure, the young boy groans in ecstasy, his throbbing erection forced down her gullet time and time again. When he finally cums, he does so without hesitation, forcing her to swallow every last drop of his seed. Septima does it of course, she has no choice in the matter if she wants to keep breathing.
However, even as he pulls out, Harry is reaching with his magic towards the latex again. The instant the tip of his cock leaves Septima’s mouth, the ball-gag begins to fill back in, replacing the O-ring gag it had turned into for a few moments and once more cutting off her sense of taste and smell entirely. Thanks to the magic of the latex, she doesn’t even need nose holes like she would if this were a muggle affair, because somehow the latex allows air through for her to continue breathing.
It really is fascinating, but Harry can study the spell later on his own time. Right now, he knows what he wants… and it’s the Arithmancy Professor’s tight cunt wrapped around his cock. Using her ponytail and a bit of the Troll Strength that had settled into his changing body, Harry rips Septima’s latex-covered form out of her chair and up onto the table. He could have rearranged things a bit, but he doesn’t, leaving her in her seated position.
The result of this is that she ends up looking like something of a zig-zag, with her covered face and the ball-gag leaned forward upon the table along with her knees. Meanwhile, her bound legs and feet are up in the air at an angle, and so is her ass. She’s maintaining her ‘seated’ position despite effectively being on her face and knees now, her arms still thoroughly bound behind her back.
Moving over her, Harry stands at his full height in order to straddle her latex-covered bubble butt. Grabbing hold of it, he gives it a good hard squeeze for a moment, marveling at the feel of the material under his hands. Septima doesn’t react of course, she can’t even feel it. However, she’ll definitely feel what comes next.
That said, this time he doesn’t fully open up the all-encompassing sensory deprivation suit. Instead, Harry manipulates it so that the material covering her cunt and indeed stuffing her cunt to the brim becomes thinner and thinner. Where there was a thick phallic shape buzzing away inside of her pussy before, Harry hollows it out and makes it thinner than the thinnest muggle condom, knowing full well that no matter what, the magical material won’t break.
The end result is a hole that is not a hole. Harry thrusts into Septima’s cunt with a thin membrane of latex between the two of them. The experience is decidedly a strange one, but nothing to scoff at. In fact, Harry finds it quite pleasurable for multiple reasons. The physical pleasure is certainly there, even if he’s not fucking Septima’s pussy directly. But there’s also the mental pleasure of using her in this state where she can’t even truly feel everything he’s doing to her.
She’s nothing but an object right now. He gets no reactions from her; he gets no input on what he’s doing to her. She’s a living human being… reduced to a literal sex toy in this moment. Harry can understand the appeal if he’s being completely honest. Using her like this is quite the treat, and he groans in appreciation as he slams into the latex-covered witch’s cunt again and again from above, thrusting down into her over and over.
All the while, Septima is unmoving. In her strange position, one would expect some shifting and jostling and jarring, but the magical latex doesn’t allow for it. She remains balanced on the ball-gag between her lips and her knees and she doesn’t move an inch, even as he pounds down into her, fucking her right there on the table.
Deciding to up the ante, Harry also sprouts some very fine, practically miniscule tendrils on the outside of the incredibly thin membrane of magical material that’s currently between his cock and her cunt. He lets the positively tiny feelers rush along her insides in time with his thrusts, giving her just an inkling of what he’s doing to her, how he’s fucking her.
He can tell from his connection to the latex that it’s incredibly pleasurable for her and that she’s in a state of near-constant and altogether endless bliss.
But of course, all good things come to an end. This experience is no different. Maybe fucking these witches for all eternity might have sounded nice in a vacuum, but the fact that, he had too much to do to even try something like that. Besides, he would get bored from the lack of variety eventually.
With a grunt, Harry cums inside of Septima as he did all of the others. The thin membrane allows his seed to spill through and fill up her womb, one of the first true sensations that the sensory deprived witch has experienced throughout his fucking of her. Her brain activity goes off the charts from what he’s sensing, and even though her body can’t so much as twitch in the magical latex, she’s clearly experiencing a truly explosive orgasm.
Chuckling, Harry pulls out of her… and slowly begins unraveling the spell. Poker Night is over now, and it’s time for all of these Potter Witches to pick themselves up and get back to their rooms and to bed. As Septima drops to the table, sprawling for a moment, Harry stands over her, watching as she slowly pushes herself onto her back and looks at him with a somewhat worshipful and entirely reverent expression.
Harry just smirks, the boy turning away from the witch who’s world he’s just rocked and towards a mostly recovered Minerva.
“It’s fairly late, Professor. I’ll be needing a note to get back to my dorm… unmolested.”
Looking somewhat tired, the Transfiguration Professor nevertheless nods her head in weary agreement. As she prepares the note, Harry takes one more look around the room, feeling a sense of satisfaction well up within him.
He plucks the note from Minerva’s fingers the moment it’s ready, having already fixed up his clothing situation. Hopping down off of the desk, he heads out of the room and back out into Hogwarts proper, feeling like King of the World if he’s being honest.
He’s still feeling quite good about himself when he rounds a corner and almost runs smack dab into a certain Auror.
“Whoa there! Ah, wotcher Harry! What are you doing out so late? You know it’s past curfew, right?”
Harry blinks as he comes face to face with Auror Tonks. The metamorphmagus hadn’t been following him, had she? No, he doesn’t detect any sort of deceit in her tone or her face, only concern as she furrows her brow at him.
Plastering a boyish grin on his face, Harry bobs his head up and down and thrusts out the note from Minerva.
“Yes Auror Tonks! Don’t worry, I’ve got a note from Professor McGonagall!”
Looking no more suspicious than she should, Tonks takes the note from him and looks it over for a moment. After a beat, she slowly nods and hands it back to him.
“Alright then, Harry. Everything seems to be in order there. I suppose you should start heading back to your dorm now though, it is awfully late.”
She looks like she wants to ask him more, but while Harry is tempted to try and prolong this conversation… he’s smart enough to know when he’s right knackered and tonight… he’s already spent a lot of his energy. Maybe once the benefits he gained from the cave troll have REALLY started to bear fruit he’ll be able to go through four witches and then try his hand at a fifth in one night, but right now getting back to his bed sounds good to him.
At the same time, he doesn’t want to let on to Tonks that he’s so tired, she might begin to wonder WHY he’s exhausted. He needs a way of disengaging without disengaging, really. Luckily, it doesn’t take him more than a moment to think of one.
“It’s been a while now, Auror Tonks… am I still going to get a reward from you for being able to cast a full-form Patronus?”
As he’d hoped, Tonks hasn’t managed to think of anything for that just yet, and so at being called out again, she blanches and lets out a sheepish little laugh.
“Oh w-wow, I didn’t expect you to remember that, Harry…”
Eyes twinkling in amusement now, Harry just shrugs his shoulders.
“I did say I’d hold you to it, Auror Tonks!”
Biting her lower lip, Tonks slowly nods.
“T-That you did… err, I’m still working on it Harry. But I promise, when it finally comes… it’ll be spectacular, really! Now… run along please.”
Still grinning a boyish grin, Harry nods right back and heads off down the hall. There, that would give Tonks something to think about, hopefully.
-x-X-x-
As she watches him go, Tonks furrows her brow and finds herself contemplating Harry James Potter and the increasing air of mystery surrounding him. On the one hand, he WAS the Boy-Who-Lived, so it made sense that he’d be getting private lessons from someone like Professor McGonagall, his Head of House. On the other hand… she’d definitely noticed something there.
When she’d first ran into him, he’d been deep in contemplation about something. But then, when he’d realized they were face to face, there’d been a noticeable shift. She never would have recognized it if he were more prepared, but she’d just happened to catch him off guard in a moment of vulnerability it seemed. Both her Auror and former Prefect senses were tingling now.
There was something off about Harry Potter. Something… odd. As he disappears around the corner and out of her field of view, Tonks resolves to keep a closer eye on the boy going forward. It wouldn’t do for anything to happen to him, not on her watch. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get to the bottom of all of this with a little bit more time…
-x-X-x-
“Heir Potter.”
“Heiress Greengrass.”
Daphne flicks her raven-black hair over her shoulder as she takes a seat across from him in a corner of the library far away from Irma Pince’s hawk-like gaze.
Smiling slightly at the Ice Princess façade that Daphne is currently putting on, Harry lets out a sigh.
“I felt like it was time we met again… especially after I heard you went to the trouble of reporting the attack against me to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”
The Slytherin Prefect stiffens at that, the older witch narrowing her eyes at him as he just smiles at her guilelessly. Yes, he’s effectively just admitted to her that he has people high up enough in the DMLE to tell him exactly where the tip-off came from. Of course, Daphne has no way of knowing that she was only one of two witches who told the Aurors about the attack. Hermione being the other one.
After a moment, the raven-haired witch just exhales slowly, before speaking in a clipped tone.
“I merely saw fit to… assist you in any way I could, Heir Potter. After all, I do owe you a life debt.”
Harry tilts his head to the side in acknowledgment of that fact. He wondered if the life debt had compelled her to inform the Aurors… but no, it wouldn’t have done that. She’d probably felt her heart clenching in her chest when the incident was ongoing, however. And if he had died, he’s not sure what would have happened to her.
That said, it was clear that their relationship wasn’t entirely going in the direction Harry wanted it to. Don’t get him wrong, he definitely wanted Daphne for himself. He was a Potter Wizard after all. More than that, he was a Potter Lord. Collecting capable witches, especially ones of Daphne Greengrass’ pedigree, was simply what he and his predecessors did. However… he didn’t want to necessarily force her. He certainly didn’t want Daphne to come to resent him.
Perhaps… another path then.
“Heiress Greengrass… Daphne. Let us dispense with the titles and pleasantries and speak plainly, alright?”
Daphne’s eyes narrow, but after a moment of trying to suss out the trap in his words and failing to find it, she merely nods.
“… Very well.”
Smiling at her, Harry stops holding back any of his true nature. Daphne has already seen plenty of the cracks in his façade of course, but that doesn’t mean she’s known him for who he really is… until now, that is. In this moment, Harry is as brazenly honest with her as he’s been with anyone so far.
“I want you, Daphne Greengrass. I want to bed you. I want to know that you are my woman.”
Stiffening visibly, Daphne’s hands go to the arms of her chair, gripping down on it so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Her lips thin out and she looks more displeased than Harry has ever seen her. He can imagine why, but before she can react, he waves a hand through the air dismissively and finishes his statement.
“However, I have no desire to use the life debt to force you to serve me in any way.”
In an instant, Daphne goes from steadily becoming more and more furious… to absolutely baffled. He can understand why, of course. Harry has just admitted quite bluntly that he wants to fuck her. That he wants to make her his woman. And the life debt makes it so that Daphne has no recourse if he decides to simply… demand liberties of her. If he wanted to have sex with her, he could do so and she would be forced by magic itself to comply to a certain extent.
There would be limits though, of course. Lines that Harry would have to be careful not to cross, lest he settle the life debt and leave Daphne free to retaliate against him however she liked. Put simply… it just wasn’t worth the hassle. Of course, that didn’t mean Harry was just going to forgive the life debt entirely.
“You will satisfy the life debt in other ways, don’t get me wrong. Some day I might need a favor from you… or perhaps a dozen little favors. Having the future Lady of House Greengrass in my back pocket is something I won’t give up, even if we never wind up coupling as I hope.”
Daphne stiffens again at that but relaxes after just a moment. A rueful smile spreads across her face, and Harry can tell that this is more familiar ground for her.
“You seem certain that I will be the next Lady Greengrass, Harry.”
Snorting in amusement, Harry gives Daphne a look.
“I am certain. You are the eldest of two daughters. Your father has taken no mistress since the passing of his wife. And you yourself have been trained and raised to take the reins your entire life. You are not going to be some trophy wife, no matter what happens next. As such, I speak to you as one equal to another when I tell you what it is I want and the fact that I am not going to force you to get it.”
Daphne looks at him for a handful of seconds, mulling over his words before finally nodding.
“I see. So then. You want me, but you will not force me. It would seem we have entered a state of negotiations, haven’t we?”
Grinning, Harry opens his mouth to speak… only for Daphne to surprise him. Quite suddenly, the Heiress of House Greengrass gets to her feet and walks across the space between them. Right there in the back corner of the library, Daphne climbs atop him, straddling him as she sits on his lap and presses her crotch into his. There are multiple layers between the two of them, but Harry’s hands still go to her ass instinctively, cupping her cheeks as she lays her hands on the back of his chair.
Rapidly getting over his surprise, Harry raises a single eyebrow as he feels Daphne up, something that she raises no complaints about.
“So… forward, Daphne.”
The so-called Ice Princess of House Slytherin, who is very much not acting like a frigid bitch at the moment, just smirks as she gently grinds into his crotch, steadily increasing the discomfort as his loins combat the confines of his pants.
“You’re right, Harry. I am my father’s heir and there will be no son in the eleventh hour to replace me. My father, Lord Greengrass, deeply loved my mother and when she died, he never took another woman to his bed. I will be Lady Greengrass when my father passes. So I wonder… what precisely do you think you can offer me as future Lord Potter? Everything you might suggest, I already have.”
Harry narrows his eyes at that. Daphne isn’t entirely wrong. She’s already a natural beauty, but she’s also not appearance driven. Plenty of other witches might flock to him for the chance of being as beautiful as Potter Magic can make them, but Daphne… Daphne is already a sculpted, statuesque beauty if he’s being honest. Oh sure, he could still make half a dozen improvements to her right here and now, but they would be minor at most.
On top of that, she’s going to be Lady Greengrass and inherit her father’s holdings as well as his seats in the Wizengamot upon his passing, so she doesn’t need his help finding a future career either. Nor does she need the prominence or wealth that being associated with him could bring. Sure, being allies with House Potter would certainly be quite the coup for House Greengrass and offer them considerably more political influence in the long run once Harry came of age and got everything in order… but it wasn’t anything earth shattering, and certainly didn’t mean that Daphne had to give Harry what HE wanted if she didn’t want to.
And yet… and yet, here they are anyways. Daphne is grinding against him, practically riding him albeit with clothes still on. His cock is throbbing now in the confines of his pants, and he knows she wouldn’t be teasing him in this manner for no reason. For her to… initiate negotiations in this fashion, it meant that Harry DID have something Daphne wanted and she was willing to go all the way in order to get it.
For a long moment, Harry contemplates what it could be… and then it dawns on him.
“Your sister.”
Daphne freezes for only a millisecond before resuming her motions, but it’s still enough for Harry to notice. She hums noncommittally, lifting a single sculpted brow at him with a curious smile plastered across her face.
“Astoria? What about her?”
Harry just snorts at that.
“You might become Lady Greengrass one day, but Astoria is the second daughter. You’ve been raised as your father’s heir, but she’s always been the spare, hasn’t she? As much as Lord Greengrass might love you both, you’re all quite aware of the world we live in… Astoria no doubt knows what’s expected of her, that she will one day marry into another family to further strengthen House Greengrass. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it, does it? And if there were a way for you to know she was protected and safe, you would jump at it…”
With a sigh, Daphne lets out a quiet chuckle.
“You’re not wrong, I suppose. About any of it. Most perceptive of you, Harry. Yes, my sister is going to be married off, sold like a broodmare to someone like Draco Malfoy if I don’t do anything about it. I’d rather not subject Astoria to that if at all possible, but if I want to protect her… I would need your help. I wonder, would you agree to a betrothal between you and her, if it got you me?”
That… Harry’s first instinct is to say yes. But that’s mostly his rock hard cock talking right now. He wants to say anything that will get him inside of Daphne Greengrass as fast as possible. Unfortunately for him and his throbbing erection, common sense wins out in the end and he has to shake his head.
“That’s a lot to ask of me, Daphne. Helping you protect your sister from would-be suitors is one thing, but marrying her? I don’t know who I’m to marry yet in all honesty. I can’t make a promise like that this early on.”
He’s trying to be as honest as possible with her, just like he’s been from the very beginning. He hopes that it’ll win him some brownie points with the Slytherin Witch. Funny how he can spend the night before dominating and banging a bunch of Professors after beating them all at Wizard’s Poker, only to find himself being given a lap dance by Daphne Greengrass as she jockeys for position the very next day.
A lap dance that is slowing down, unfortunately. Daphne frowns… and then climbs off of him. Looking down at him for a moment with her hands on her hips, she ultimately shrugs.
“Then it seems we have nothing else to talk about for the moment, Heir Potter. Unless you wish to make any… demands of me?”
The question is as probing as it is accusatory, with Daphne checking to see if he’ll go back on his word in the end. But Harry just shakes his head, even though he’s dying to do exactly that. Giving him one last look, Daphne scoffs and turns on her heel.
“Think over my offer, Harry. I’ll see you around.”
The so-called ‘Ice Princess’ is a damn minx! Especially with how she knowingly sways her hips as she leaves him in the little corner of the Hogwarts Library. Damn it… Daphne and Hermione are more alike than they both know, though he’s not sure how they’d respond to the comparison. But seriously… how did both witches manage to so effectively blue ball him?!
Though, at the same time the comparison did give him some hope. After all, Hermione might have blue balled him, but she’d wound up impaled on his cock in the end all the same. Daphne would wind up there too, eventually. She would willingly be his woman… this Harry swore.