Chapter 2216 - Ch: 1-3

Mum Knows Best

OmniNymph

Summary:

Harry's morning wood leads him to seek out Professor Lily Potter. What begins as an innocent plea for help quickly spirals into lessons every man wants to learn.

Notes:

For thunder20.

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: The Curious Case of Harry's Cock

Chapter Text

The Slytherin boys' dormitory lay submerged in a dull green gloom, lit faintly by the filtered light of the Black Lake that pressed against the thick glass set into the stone wall. The water beyond rippled slowly, shadows of squid or kelp trailing past in silence.

Harry Potter stirred beneath his blanket, still warm from sleep, eyes barely open. For a moment, he thought the strange heaviness in his body was just part of a dream.

Then he felt a stiff, throbbing pressure pushing against the thin cotton of his pyjama bottoms. He shifted, groggy, then looked down.

The fabric was stretched into a visible tent. His heartbeat picked up. He tried to will it away, lying still, counting backwards, thinking of anything cold. Nothing helped.

The ache deepened with each twitch of his cock. When his thighs shifted, the cloth dragged against him, sending heat curling through his stomach.

With a quiet curse, he pushed off the blanket and sat up. The air was cool against his face, but not enough to help. He slid off the bed, tugged on his grey school trousers, and fastened the clasp, adjusting himself as discreetly as possible. It barely helped.

His erection pressed high and awkward inside the waistband, stiff and unforgiving. He pulled on his uniform shirt and Slytherin robes over it, buttoning quickly, fingers a bit shaky.

Outside in the common room, the green light from the lake gave the space an eerie calm. The walls were carved with twisting serpents and dark stone columns, and the ceiling curved high above, domed like a cathedral. One enchanted lamp glowed over the fireplace, where emerald flames licked at the grate. Two sixth-years sat hunched near the hearth, scribbling on parchment.

His childhood friend Daphne Greengrass stood near one of the chairs, speaking quietly with Tracey Davis, his other childhood friend. Her long pale-blonde hair shimmered under the green glow. She looked up as Harry passed and gave him a slow smile.

"Morning, Harry," she said.

Her eyes didn't stop at his face, sliding lower to the stiff, deliberate set of his stride. Tracey's gaze followed, a flash of amusement curling her lips into an almost-smirk. "Looks like someone's… distracted," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Daphne didn't laugh, but her mouth curved in a knowing smile that somehow felt worse.

Harry swallowed. "Morning," he said, too quickly.

Daphne's voice lingered, low and amused. "You're up early."

His face burned. The pressure in his trousers had not gone down. If anything, it pulsed harder under their gaze.

"I wanted to ask you about—"

"Later," he muttered, turning away.

He walked, not ran, because running would only draw more attention. But his pace quickened. One hand pressed low in his pocket, fingers angled to hide the shape. Tracey's quiet laugh followed him as the entrance wall peeled open and let him out into the corridor.

The dungeons were dim and damp, the stones glistening faintly with underground moisture. He moved past empty classrooms, their iron-latched doors sealed shut. As he climbed out of the lower levels, Hogwarts began to warm with the first light of day. Golden sunlight streamed through the narrow windows between stone buttresses. The portraits were still half asleep, some muttering behind painted curtains.

The staircases shifted underfoot, old wood creaking on stone pivots. One turned slowly as he stepped onto it, taking him higher. With each movement, the stiff fabric rubbed against his skin, drawing a sharp breath through his teeth. The tip was wet now, dampening the inside of his trousers. He clenched his teeth, but the tension had not eased. His erection throbbed with stubborn, maddening heat.

He should have stayed in bed. Or gone to the bathroom. Or done anything other than walk the length of the castle with this ache still pulsing in his trousers.

It wasn't just morning stiffness. He knew that by now. His thoughts had been slipping places they shouldn't lately.

He clenched his jaw harder, trying not to think about her that way. It felt wrong.

Maybe she would know what to do. She always did. That was reason enough.

Even as he thought it, he felt the lie. This wasn't about help. This wasn't about a question. It was about the heat in his gut, and the way it refused to go away, and how the ache got worse every time he pictured her turning to look at him.

He didn't plan the route. His feet carried him without thinking.

His steps slowed as he neared the upper corridor.

Something told him what was about to happen was madness.

The brass nameplate at the end of the hall caught the sunlight. Professor L. Potter.

His pulse hammered so hard he thought she might hear it through the door. She was his mother. That fact alone should have stopped him. But the ache in his trousers pulsed with each heartbeat, and turning back meant walking past every portrait and corridor with it still there. He told himself she'd understand, that she'd help. The lie was almost comforting.

He hesitated, a tight coil of nerves winding in his belly. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't even sure what he would say or what he was asking for.

But walking back through the castle like this would be worse. Past portraits, students, and perhaps even Daphne and Tracey might still be in the common room, waiting to laugh.

He looked behind him. The hallway was empty.

His hand tightened into a fist. He stepped forward, reached the door, and knocked once.

A pause. Then her voice.

"Come in."

He eased the door open and stepped into a wash of warm light, the scent of parchment and rosewater drifting over him. The air seemed thicker here, holding a quiet warmth that made the room feel entirely hers. His pulse quickened before she even spoke.

The room was bright with morning light. Sun spilled in through tall arched windows that looked over the lawns sloping toward the Forbidden Forest. The lake glinted in the distance, blue and glassy. The walls were lined with tall wooden shelves full of potion vials, old texts, and neatly labeled ingredients. A desk sat near the window, parchment unfurled beside an inkpot. Lily stood behind it, wearing a simple dark green teaching robe over a fitted blouse and a long skirt, her red hair pinned loosely at her nape.

"Harry?" Her voice softened, her eyes lingering on his flushed face for a heartbeat before she went on. "You're up early… is something wrong?"

He closed the door behind him. "I… need to talk to you. Privately."

Her brow furrowed in concern. "Alright. Come sit."

She gestured to the chair, her quill set aside. Her gaze flicked down for just a heartbeat before returning to his face.

He sat down in the cushioned chair she kept beside the hearth, away from the desk, and looked at his knees.

"Something's wrong with me," he said, voice low. "I woke up and… I can't make it stop. It's been like this since I opened my eyes."

Her expression softened in understanding. "Oh, Harry. That's completely normal. Your body's changing. Sometimes that happens when you wake up, or even during the day. You can… touch yourself to help it. And one day, when you're older, a woman you love will take care of it for you."

He looked straight into her green eyes. "I already love someone."

She smiled faintly with a bit of a different tone than he was used to. "Who?"

"You," he said, without hesitation. "So… could you?"

His hand hovered, heart pounding. If she pulled away, he'd never ask again. But he didn't stop. He placed her hand in his lap.

Her smile faltered. "Harry—"

"I'm not asking anyone else," he said quietly but firmly.

Before she could speak again, he reached for her hand. Her skin was warm as he placed it in his lap, the heat of him seeping through the cloth. She hesitated just long enough for him to wonder if she would pull away, then her fingers curled slightly over the firm shape beneath.

A dozen reasons to pull away flashed through her mind and vanished just as quickly under the heavy throb against her palm.

"Harry…" she whispered, torn between the instinct to pull away and the sudden rush of heat low in her stomach.

He didn't let go.

Her pulse quickened. Slowly, she let her fingers wrap around him through the cloth. The heat seeped into her palm, the shape and firmness impossible to ignore. She eased open the front of his robes, the fabric catching faintly before her hand slipped inside. Her fingers found him quickly, closing around the heated length before drawing him into the light. He was hot and thick in her hand, already slick at the tip.

He was smaller than his late father, but bigger than she remembered, the hard heat of him filling her palm. She stroked gently, watching the way his breath caught, how his shoulders tensed.

Still stroking him, she lowered to her knees between his legs, the cold floor pressing through her robes.

From above, he watched the fall of her robes as they pooled on the floor around her, the crown of her head framed by the morning light. Her eyes tilted upward for a heartbeat, locking with his before she looked down again.

Her hand twitched. She could still say no. But the way he looked at her it stirred something buried in her that she didn't want to admit.

"You're so gifted for your age," she murmured. Her thumb brushed over the tip, gathering the bead of moisture there, spreading it down his length.

His eyes fluttered half-shut. "Feels… really good," he admitted, voice low.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" she said softly, her other hand resting on his thigh for balance. "It's meant to…"

He let out a slow breath, trying to stay still, but his hips began to lift in small, awkward pushes. The sight of him, his robes parted, cheeks flushed, trusting eyes, made it impossible for her to stop.

Her strokes became more confident, her hand sliding over him in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound of wet skin quiet but clear in the stillness of the room.

Each stroke made a slick, wet glide, his six inches hot and firm in her grip. Harry's breathing had gone uneven, his mouth parting slightly as he watched her hand work him. She could feel the pulse in him, the way he twitched when her thumb circled the head and spread the slick that was already leaking.

His robes hung open now, fabric pooling at his sides and baring his lap to the warm air.

"You belong to me, baby," she murmured, her tone low and certain.

He gave a small nod, his cheeks red. "I know, Mum."

She lowered her head, her breath warm against him, then let her lips close over the tip in a slow, deliberate seal that made his thighs tense.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his thighs tensing, toes curling inside his shoes as every nerve in his body lit up. "Mum… something is coming…" His words faded into a shaky exhale.

The taste of him was warm and clean, with a faint saltiness that made her tongue explore him more eagerly. She let her tongue swirl over the ridge, drawing him deeper until the head pressed against the back of her mouth. Her hand worked the base as she sucked, hollowing her cheeks, taking him in and letting him slide out slick and glistening before sinking down again.

He shifted beneath her, hips giving small, tentative thrusts, almost testing how far he could go. "It feels… so much better," he admitted without thinking.

She looked up at him with a glint in her eyes. "That is because Mummy knows exactly how her boy likes it."

His blush deepened, but his voice was quick and earnest. "Yeah… you do."

Her own arousal was building. She let him slip free with a wet pop, pausing just long enough for her eyes to meet his flushed, wanting gaze.

Her chest rose and fell. She should stop. She knew she should. But the innocent and flushed look on his face made her thighs clench.

She rose from her knees, stepping over his legs with unhurried care. His eyes tracked her every move, the brush of her robe hem over his thighs making his breath quicken before she settled fully onto his lap.

Her robes parted as she moved, baring the creamy curve of her thighs and the slick, swollen folds between them.

"You want Mummy to make you feel even better?" she asked, her breath warm against his ear.

"Yes," he said immediately, almost pleading. "Please, Mum."

She reached down between them, wrapping her fingers around him and guiding the head to her entrance. It pressed into her heat, parting her folds as she sank down inch by inch, his gaze fixed on the point where their bodies joined until he was fully inside her.

His six inches filled her enough to make her sigh in long-lost pleasure, and she felt the stretch of him in every slow movement.

He looked up at her, green eyes wide and a little dazed. "It feels so warm and slippery inside."

"That warmth is for you, baby," she whispered. "Only for you."

She rode him slowly, hips gliding forward so his chest pressed against hers and her breasts brushed his face. "Touch them," she said softly.

His hands came up, cupping the heavy swell through her blouse. He rubbed her nipples with his thumbs, feeling them stiffen under the thin fabric. "They're so soft… and big," he murmured, almost in awe.

"They are for you to touch whenever you want from now on. They are your birthright," she told him.

Her pace quickened. She could feel his tension building, the way his thighs flexed beneath her. Then his cock pulsed, releasing in short, hot spurts deep inside her. She moaned at the heat, grinding down to keep him buried.

"Stay hard, baby. Mum's not finished yet," she breathed, moving faster, chasing her own pleasure.

Her nails bit lightly into his shoulders, the sound of her breathing breaking into ragged gasps. Each pulse inside her made the wet heat between them grow louder in the quiet room. She kept riding, the wet squelching sounds between them growing louder. The second release came with a tremor that ran up her spine, then another, until her legs were shaking and her body gave out. She collapsed forward against him, panting, sweat beading at her temple.

Her eyes closed for what felt like a moment, and when they opened, her skirt was bunched around her waist and Harry was already moving inside her, his hips rolling in a steady, instinctive rhythm that sent a warm pulse through her. His young face was focused, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

"Mum… I can't stop," he murmured, voice low and urgent.

The look in her eyes turned molten, lips parting as if she'd been waiting for him to say it. Pride and hunger mingled there before she drew him down to her mouth.

Her hands slid up his back, pulling him down so his mouth brushed hers. "Then don't, baby. Mummy wants every drop you have left."

Harry groaned softly as the last few pulses spilled inside her. He stayed buried for a moment, his breathing uneven, before finally slipping free. His cock softened against her thigh, the wet heat between them making her shiver.

Lily brushed his messy hair back from his forehead, looking down at him with a mix of pride and something deeper. "You did so well for Mummy," she whispered.

He gave a small, shy smile. "Really?"

"Really," she said, kissing his temple. A possessive thought settled in her chest with absolute certainty. No other witch will ever take care of his needs. That is my job. With my training, he's going to be so good. One day, he'll be the most desired man in the entire wizarding world.

She shifted, guiding him to lie back for a moment. "Mummy wants to show you more. I am going to teach you how to make mum love you for the rest of your life."

His lips quirked. "Alright… what now?"

"First, we get you ready again," she said, sliding down his body. She licked him slowly from base to tip, tasting their combined release, her tongue curling around the head before taking him into her mouth. The warmth and slick suction made him twitch against her tongue. By the time she let him go, he was hard again.

"On your knees behind me," she told him, moving onto all fours and lifting her skirt over her hips. Her bubble-shaped ass was bare, round, and perfect in the morning light. She reached back, guiding him to her entrance.

The head of his cock slipped back into her heat, and he groaned at how wet and warm she still was.

"Harry," she said, glancing back over her shoulder, "I want you to spank me while you make love to me."

He blinked. "Like… you spank me?"

"Yes," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Just like that. Do it for Mummy."

He hesitated, then brought his hand down on her cheek with a sharp smack. She moaned, the sound raw and lewd, her hips pushing back into him. The noise alone made his cock throb inside her.

"Again," she breathed.

He spanked her again, the sharp crack ringing in the air. Heat bloomed under his palm, her flesh giving a quick tremor in response. Each slap made her moan louder, the sounds tumbling out of her without restraint.

"Oh, Harry… that makes Mummy cum," she gasped, her body tightening around him.

The wet squeeze of her climax pulled a groan from his chest. He kept thrusting, his hands gripping her hips now, spanking her in time with his movements.

Her moans turned into cries, the lewd pitch of them driving him harder. He felt the heat building fast, the tension winding tight in his stomach.

He gave her one last hard spank and pushed deep, spilling inside her again with a shudder. His release seemed to push her over the edge as she cried out, her body jerking as a hot gush sprayed from her, splashing down her thighs and onto the floor beneath them.

She kept squirting, wave after wave, until she sagged forward, panting, her body finally empty.

Harry stayed pressed to her back, still breathing hard, his hands stroking over her hips. "You… really liked that," he said, sounding almost amazed.

She turned her head enough to kiss his cheek. "Mummy loves everything you do to her. And whenever you feel like this, we can do it all over again."

Harry was still pressed to her back, his breathing slowing, when she shifted and sat up on her knees. Her blouse clung damply to her chest from sweat, and as she caught her breath, she felt a faint heaviness there. She glanced down and saw a thin bead of milk dampening the fabric over one nipple.

A low, warm smile touched her lips as she noticed a faint dampness blooming over her blouse. She pulled it open and unhooked her bra, letting her breasts spill free. A bead welled at her nipple and slid down the curve.

Harry's gaze followed its path, his throat working as he swallowed. The full, bare swell of her breasts held him as surely as her touch ever had.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Mum… are you…?"

She guided his head closer. "Yes. Mummy is giving milk now. You are not going to waste a drop. Drink, baby."

He swallowed and leaned in, lips wrapping around her nipple. The first pull was tentative, then firmer when the warm liquid filled his mouth. She cradled his head, stroking his messy hair.

"That is it," she murmured, her voice a mix of pride and arousal. "Drink it all for me. You are the only one who gets this."

When he pulled back for a breath, a trace of milk glistened on his lower lip. "It tastes… warm. Kind of sweet like you,"

She smiled. "It is for you. Always."

Her hand stroked over his hair, her gaze steady. "You must never tell anyone what we do. It will be our secret. Do you understand?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah… I get it. I won't tell. Not even Daphne."

"Good boy," she said softly. "You can only do these things with witches who love you the way Mummy does. Do you know why?"

He thought for a moment. "Because… it means they really want me? Not just… using me?"

Her lips curved in approval. "Exactly. And there are not many who will love you like I do. But there are some." She let her voice drop lower, teasing. "I have seen the way Daphne looks at you. Even Tracey and Astoria… oh, she would ride you until you could not stand."

Harry flushed. "Mum…"

"Does thinking about them make you hard again?" she asked, watching his face.

He hesitated, then grinned sheepishly. "A little."

She kissed the top of his head. "That is good. Mummy will make sure you know exactly what to do with them if they ever earn it. But until then…" She pressed her nipple back to his lips. "Drink for me again."

He obeyed, sucking slowly this time, his hands cupping the heavy swell of her breasts as if they were already his.

Chapter 2: Morning Bliss Followed by Madness

Chapter Text

Harry stirred to warmth against his cheek. His head was pillowed between soft thighs, smooth skin carrying the faint scent of rosewater mixed with a sharper musk that made his pulse quicken even before his eyes opened. When he blinked awake, the first thing he saw was the trimmed red thatch of familiar bush above him.

For a moment, he froze, stunned at the sight and closeness, but Lily shifted knowingly, pressing her hips forward until her swollen lips hovered over his mouth. The intimate and intoxicating smell rushed into his nose. He drew in a startled breath, and the taste clung to his tongue before his tongue even touched her. His cock twitched violently in response, jerking against the hot suction already pulling at it.

He could not see her face from this angle, but he felt everything. Her mouth worked steadily on his shaft, sliding lower with each stroke until the head nudged against her throat. Strands of her red hair brushed across his stomach as she moved, each slick pull accompanied by wet, obscene sounds that echoed in the quiet room.

A groan broke from his throat, muffled against the soft flesh above him. Lily's bubble butt pressed into his face, grinding herself down until his nose and lips were buried in her heat. Her voice hummed around his cock, words vibrating against his skin.

"Tongue out, baby. Keep it steady for me."

He obeyed without thinking, letting his tongue slip free. Lily immediately rolled her hips, smearing her arousal over his mouth. His lips and chin grew wet as she used his face with slow, deliberate movements. The taste spread thickly across his tongue, musky and salty, and his head spun at how wrong and irresistible it felt.

"Good boy… lick me there. Circle it. Yes, just like that."

Her clit throbbed beneath his tongue, and she shivered, thighs tightening around his head. He found rhythm, flicking and circling until her voice broke in gasps. Above him, her throat relaxed, taking him deeper, and he felt the head of his cock slide against her palate. She drew back with a loud slurp, then swallowed him nearly to the root, her tongue stroking the underside in long, wet sweeps.

The combined heat overwhelmed him. His stomach clenched, his balls pulled tight, and with a muffled cry against her pussy he came. His cock throbbed violently as hot spurts spilled into her mouth, pulse after pulse flooding her throat.

Lily swallowed greedily, milking him dry, her throat working around him until he sagged back into the sheets. She did not stop. A low moan vibrated through his shaft as she licked him clean, savoring the taste, while grinding her hips harder against his mouth.

"Don't stop, Harry. Keep licking. Mummy isn't finished."

Her folds smeared slick heat across his lips. He licked clumsily at first, overwhelmed, but her guiding voice steadied him.

"Slower now… circle me… yes, suck gently. Deeper, baby, push deeper."

He followed every word, teasing her entrance with his tongue, dipping inside until her hips rocked down to take more. Her thighs quivered, her breath grew sharp and high, and her whole body tightened above him. She shuddered and cried out, pressing down fully as her orgasm broke.

Warm fluid gushed from her cunt, splashing across his lips and chin. She clutched his hair, trembling violently, and her cries filled the air in ragged bursts. Hot streams coated his face, sliding down his cheeks and neck. He licked and drank what he could, his tongue smothered in her wetness, while she rocked desperately against him until the spasms finally slowed.

She gasped for air, easing off only slightly. Then his tongue brushed lower, over the tight ring of her arsehole. Lily jolted violently, her whole body arching with a strangled gasp.

"Harry… do you know what you just did?"

His muffled sound of confusion made her shiver harder. She stroked his damp hair, her voice rough with a new kind of heat. "You licked Mummy's sensitive arse. Do it again. Right there. My good boy."

He obeyed instantly, pressing his tongue against her rim. She moaned louder, hips bucking back uncontrollably.

"Deeper… tongue fuck me there. Yes, Harry, just like that."

He thrust his tongue into her tight ring, slow at first, then harder as she rocked back against his face. Every push made her body jolt, her muscles clenching uncontrollably as the forbidden sensation stripped away her restraint.

Her thighs clamped around his head, trapping him as she screamed his name. Her body convulsed in wild spasms, this climax hitting sharper and more violently than before. She squirted in hard gushes that sprayed his face and drenched the sheets beneath them. Her arsehole fluttered around his tongue as her cunt pulsed and poured, soaking him completely.

Hot streams splashed across his chest as she bucked above him, wave after wave leaving him drowning in her taste and scent. Still, he licked, tongue buried deep, until the final tremors left her collapsing forward onto her hands.

A husky laugh broke from her throat, her voice roughened by ecstasy. She glanced down at him, his face glistening, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and her wetness. One hand cupped the back of his head, stroking tenderly through the mess.

"My good boy," she whispered, still trembling with aftershocks. "You just made Mummy cum so hard."

At last, Harry's tongue slipped free as Lily sagged against him, her body quivering in the aftermath. He gasped for air, chest heaving, his face shining with her release. She shifted down beside him, legs still weak, and her eyes dropped to his lap.

His morning wood, slick with her saliva, had wilted against his stomach. The proud hardness that had filled her mouth so proudly only minutes before now lay softened, glistening with spit and seed. Harry bit his lip, frustration plain, jaw tight as though ashamed.

Lily's expression softened. She touched his cheek, thumb brushing gently, then bent to kiss his damp forehead. Her lips lingered with maternal warmth before she drew back, eyes gleaming.

"Do not look so disappointed, baby," she whispered. "Mummy knew this would happen after your first time."

He groaned softly, his voice rough. "I just… I want to keep going for you. I don't want to stop."

Her smile deepened, tender and hungry at once. She reached to the bedside cabinet, opening a drawer, and drew out a slim vial filled with pale green liquid that glowed faintly in the morning light. She held it delicately between her fingers as though it were sacred.

"This," she said, her voice husky with pride, "is very important. A potion reserved for heirs of old houses. My own brew. It enhances size, stamina, and the strength of a man's seed. It ensures he can continue the line and birth new heirs without failing. With this, you will never disappoint me."

Harry swallowed, staring at the vial. His cock gave a small twitch against his stomach despite its softness. "You… you made this for me?"

"For you," Lily confirmed, brushing her hand along his cheek. "Drink it, baby. Let me help you become the man you are meant to be."

She tipped the vial to his lips. He swallowed the warm, thick liquid, and at once, heat spread through his belly, sinking lower. He gasped, clutching at the sheets as the sensation gathered sharply in his groin.

His cock stirred in her hand, swelling almost instantly. Thick and flushed, it surged to full hardness before his eyes, rising longer and heavier than before. It reached a full eight inches, veins standing thick beneath the flushed skin, the crown glossy as precum welled and spilled in pearly beads down his shaft.

His balls tightened and ached, swollen with sudden weight, the skin stretched taut as though overfilled. The ache was not emptiness but fullness, as if they were already brimming, ready to release again and again.

A low, awed moan escaped him. "Mum… it's so much bigger… it feels like it's going to burst."

Lily's smile was radiant, her eyes drinking him in. She wrapped her fingers around the thicker girth, stroking him slowly from base to tip, smearing the slickness down his length. He twitched violently in her hand, his whole body trembling from the hypersensitivity.

"My beautiful boy," she whispered, pride and lust threading her tone. "Look at you. Becoming a true man for me. With this, you can satisfy me again and again. One day, other witches may be addicted to your cock, but you belong to Mummy first."

Her thumb spread the leaking fluid across his tip, and she bent to kiss his cheek with almost reverent affection. Then her eyes flicked back down, hungry, as she stroked him firmer, watching his cock throb and swell in her hand.

"Now," she purred, her breath hot against his ear, "let me show you what a wizard can do to his lovely witch."

Lily slid higher against the headboard, her flushed body glistening with sweat. Her breasts hung heavy and flushed, nipples stiff from arousal. She spread her thighs wide, knees drawn up, opening herself shamelessly to her son. With one hand, she stroked her clit, with the other she parted her cheeks, baring the tight ring of her ass as an invitation.

Her green eyes burned into his. "Trust your instincts, Harry. Take what you need from Mummy."

Harry's chest heaved, standing naked behind her, his cock jutting out proudly. His eyes locked onto the sight of her spread wide for him, her pussy fold still wet from her earlier releases, her arse open and waiting. His breath came ragged as he climbed between her legs.

The thick head of his cock pressed against her arsehole, glistening with his saliva. The resistance made his stomach knot, and then with a push, he slid inside. The heat closed around him, impossibly tight, squeezing him with every inch. He gasped sharply. "Merlin… Mum… it's so tight… so hot."

Lily's head fell back against the headboard, a moan ripping from her throat. Her fingers worked frantically at her clit as her other hand dipped into her pussy. "Yes, baby. Mummy loves it too. Deeper. Stretch my ass."

Harry's hips moved in small, awkward thrusts at first, but the wetness smeared across her rim made each push easier. Soon, he was sliding into her steadily, his cock buried to the hilt in her backside, the clench of her ass milking him each time he pulled back. His hand tangled in her fiery hair, pulling her head back to bare her throat, while his other hand came down hard on her cheek with a sharp smack.

The sound cracked through the room. Lily cried out, her breasts bouncing as she jerked forward from the impact. But her cry melted into a wanton moan. "Again, Harry. Spank me again. Show Mummy how much you love her body."

He obeyed, spanking her until her pale cheeks flushed red beneath his hand. He fucked her with more force, each thrust harder, deeper, the slap of his hips against her ass loud and wet. He bent low, licking the sweat from her back as she writhed beneath him.

Harry lost himself in the rhythm. His cock pumped in and out of her ass in steady, driving strokes, the heat and pressure surrounding him unlike anything he had imagined. Every time he withdrew, her rim clung to him, reluctant to let go, before he forced himself back inside with a wet glide. His balls swung heavily against her as he thrust, the ache in them deep and constant, begging for release. His breath came ragged, his chest slick with sweat, his muscles burning as he pounded into her.

Lily clutched the bedding with one hand, her body rocking with every thrust, while her other hand worked her clit furiously. The tightness in her ass was stretched to the edge, every push of his cock sending sparks of sensation racing through her belly. She moaned without restraint, her voice high and pleading, tears pricking at her eyes from the intensity. "Yes… yes, Harry… Mummy's ass is yours… keep pounding me like that… you make me feel so full."

The pressure coiled too fast for Harry to hold back. His grip on her hair tightened, his hips slamming home in a final hard rhythm. He groaned deep and loud as his cock throbbed violently, releasing in hot, pulsing streams inside her ass.

Lily arched, feeling the heat flood her, her cunt spasming around her own fingers as she came alongside him, gasping in ragged sobs.

At last, he pulled out, his thick shaft sliding slickly free. A rush of his cum followed, leaking in a wet trail down the curve of her ass and dripping onto the sheets below. Lily shivered at the sensation, her thighs shaking as she caught her breath. As he sagged against her, his hand clutched her shoulder with a whine.

"Not yet, Harry," she moaned, her voice raw with need. "Mummy's cunt is still hungry. It's aching for you. Fill her too like you filled my ass. I need your cock where it belongs."

Lily's body was still trembling from being taken in her ass, but her hunger had not dimmed. She shifted quickly, pushing Harry down onto his back. His cock, still hard and swollen from the potion, stood thick and glistening between his legs. She straddled him in one smooth motion, facing away, guiding his length to her soaked folds.

She lowered herself slowly, pressing his wet crown against her slick folds. His cum, smeared from her ass, mixed with the fresh gush of her arousal, coated him as he slid in. Inch by inch, her pussy stretched around him, swallowing his cock with greedy resistance.

Harry groaned at the sensation. The shift from her tight ass to the hot, wet clutch of her cunt nearly undid him on the spot. The walls fluttered around him, slick and pulsing, gripping him as though her body refused to let go.

"Oh fuck," Lily cried out, her hands flying to her breasts. She clawed at them, squeezing the heavy mounds as her hips sank all the way down. His cock filled her completely, the depth of him making her body quake. "So big… stretching Mummy's cunt open… yes, that's it."

The wet squelch of her cunt sliding over him filled the room as she began to ride, hips grinding in wide circles before lifting and dropping again.

Harry groaned, his hands gripping her waist hard, steadying her as she bounced on his cock. Each thrust drove deeper, slick and relentless, the sound of her dripping heat squelching louder with every movement. She looked back over her shoulder at him, sweat dampening her loose hair, green eyes blazing with raw lust.

"Don't stop. Give me everything. You were made to fuck me like this," she cursed, her voice breaking into ragged cries as her breasts bounced in her hands. She pinched her nipples, moaning wantonly. "Yes… fuck me harder, Harry. Fill me again. Cum in Mummy's cunt."

Their voices tangled, moans and gasps overlapping as their bodies slapped together in wet rhythm. Harry's grip tightened until his fingers dug into her waist, his own voice breaking into groans as his balls tightened. Lily ground down harder, circling her hips, milking him shamelessly.

The pressure broke in him first. With a strangled cry, he erupted inside her, thick spurts flooding her womb. She gasped at the sudden heat and clenched down on him, the sensation dragging her over the edge as well. Her voice pitched high, cursing loudly as she shook through her climax, grinding against him to wring out every drop.

Just as their cries echoed through the room, a sudden knock rattled at the door. Lily froze, her body stiffening above him, but the danger only heightened the intensity. The thrill of being nearly caught sent a jolt through them both. Harry thrust up into her again, and she came undone with another loud cry. They shuddered together, her pussy spasming around his cock while his last spurts spilled deep inside her.

Panting, drenched in sweat, Lily slumped forward on his thighs, her cunt still pulsing around him as the echo of the knock lingered in the air.

Their bodies finally eased, shuddering with the last spasms of climax. Lily slid carefully off Harry, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, leaving her stretched and messy. A hot dribble of his seed began to seep slowly from both her holes, sliding down her inner thighs. She clenched instinctively, but she could feel it leaking, slick and shameful.

With a whispered charm, she cleaned the worst from their skin. Be it Harry's stomach, her thighs, but she dared not draw attention to the cum still inside her, nor to the warmth still spilling gradually out as her arsehole clenched tight. Instead, she straightened, summoning a thin silk nightdress from the foot of the bed and pulling it over her flushed skin. The fabric clung to her curves, sticking where sweat dampened her, the faintest damp mark already forming between her thighs.

"Quickly, baby," she whispered, leaning close. "Get your clothes back on. Then lie down and pretend to sleep."

Harry was still completely naked. He grabbed his discarded trousers and tugged them over his hips, his cock half swollen and sticky, then shrugged into his shirt. He left it unbuttoned in his haste and slumped back against the pillows, stretching out as if he had been asleep all along. His eyes closed at her command, and his breathing slowed.

Lily bent to kiss his damp forehead, smoothing his hair with tender fingers. "Mummy will take care of this."

The knock came again, louder this time, rattling the frame. Lily's eyes narrowed. "I'm coming," she called.

Harry cracked one eye, smirking faintly. "You already did," he murmured.

Her head snapped toward him. She pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh." A neat flick of her wand drew the worst of the wet from the sheets. "Tergeo." The fabric dried, but the heavy musk of sex still hung thick in the room. Beneath her nightdress, she could feel another slow trickle escaping, hot against her skin, but her expression remained carefully composed.

She drew the nightdress tighter around her body, angled the door to block the bed from view, and pulled it open in one smooth motion.

Bellatrix Black stood waiting, arms crossed beneath her breasts, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"Well, well," she drawled, voice rich with amusement. "That explains the performance. A symphony of moans echoes down the corridor."

The musky scent rolled past Lily into the hall. Bellatrix tilted her head, breathed it in, and ran her tongue slowly across her lips with a low hum, as if savoring it.

Lily stiffened, knuckles whitening on the frame. "You should mind your own business, Bellatrix," she said, voice sharp and protective.

Bellatrix chuckled, eyes glinting as they flicked toward the darkened room behind Lily. "I do not need to look inside anymore," she said softly. "I can smell it."

Her laughter curled through the doorway like smoke.

Lily forced her jaw steady. "And why are you here, Bellatrix? You don't knock on my door at this hour without a reason."

Bellatrix's smirk deepened. "Oh, don't get so prickly, Lily. I only came because I was asked. Your little symphony woke the elves. One of them ran to me in a panic, begging me to see if someone was dying in here."

Her laughter was low, mocking. Her tongue slid across her lips in slow satisfaction. "No need to scare the poor creatures. They thought you were being tortured. But from what I heard, you were being anything but."

Lily's cheeks burned. For a heartbeat, shame pricked through her, but suspicion quickly followed. "An elf came to you?" she asked sharply. "Why you, of all people? They would sooner run to the kitchens than approach you."

Bellatrix only chuckled and waved the question away. "Details, Lily. Nothing to fret over."

She turned, her steps carrying her down the dawn-lit hall, then glanced back with eyes glinting dark amusement.

"You can dress as if you came out of a bath, but you can't wash away what I heard… or hide the glow of a satisfied woman."

Her laugh echoed down the corridor as she disappeared into the shadows.

Lily shut the door firmly and pressed her back against it, chest rising and falling. The light creeping across the room caught the damp sheen clinging to her nightdress. A fresh trickle slid down her thigh beneath the silk, warm and humiliating, but she ignored it, forcing her composure to remain steady.

On the bed, Harry cracked both eyes open, his mouth tugging into a sly grin. He stretched, shirt hanging loose over his bare chest, and sat up. The sheets, though dried, still held the heavy musk of their coupling. With a sharp flick of her wand, Lily erased the last lingering stains, vanishing the proof of their rutting. Then she reached for his hand.

"Come," she said softly. "We need to wash before anyone else comes sniffing around."

He followed her obediently through the adjoining door into her private bath. Steam curled upward, carrying the faint fragrance of rose oil. The wide marble tub glistened in the candlelight, already filled with hot, rippling water. Lily slipped her nightdress from her shoulders, letting it fall soundlessly to the floor. Her pale skin gleamed in the soft light, still faintly marked by his hands.

Harry shed his clothes with less grace, trousers and shirt tumbling into a heap by the wall. His cock, flushed and softened now, still twitched faintly with the aftershocks of their passion.

Together they stepped into the steaming pool. The warmth embraced them, easing sore muscles and rinsing away the sticky traces that clung to their thighs and bellies. Lily sank back first, reclining against the smooth wall of the tub, and drew Harry into her arms.

His chest pressed against hers, his head resting against her breasts. The water lapped gently at their shoulders, rose-scent drifting in slow curls around them. Lily's fingers stroked lazily through his damp hair, tracing slow circles over his scalp. His eyelids drooped, exhaustion tugging at him, but he leaned into her touch as though it anchored him.

For a long while, neither spoke. Only the soft drip of condensation and the muted splash of water disturbed the quiet.

At last, Lily bent her head close, her lips brushing his ear. Her voice came low and possessive, each word steeped in certainty.

"No one will ever love you the way I do," she whispered. "No one will ever know you the way Mummy does."

Her arms tightened around him, as though sealing a vow. Harry let himself drift into the haze of warmth and exhaustion, his eyes closing to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

…

Hogwarts buzzed with unease. Whispers followed Harry in every corridor: The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. After Filch's cat, Colin Creevey was found stiff and pale, his eyes wide and unseeing, clutching his camera as though frozen mid-step.

Rumors spread as quickly as fear. Students clutched talismans and protective charms, convinced they might be next. Whispers claimed the Irish were the first to be targeted, not by the monster, but by their own friends.

Their "lucky charms" were vanishing at an alarming rate. By breakfast, the common joke was that Irish students were hoarding everything from lucky soap and lucky cards to lucky underwear, muttering about hexes if anyone dared touch them.

Bellatrix Black thrived on the fear that gripped the castle. With a sly smile, she announced a new Dueling Club, insisting the students should be taught to defend themselves properly. Unlike Flitwick's careful instruction or the stern discipline of Snape and McGonagall, her lessons were ruthless. She unveiled hexes, jinxes, and spells nobody dared even whisper about in the common rooms, each demonstration laced with a hint of madness and the thrill of danger.

That evening, the Great Hall had been cleared, benches pushed aside. Students crowded around the edges, their voices hushed with anticipation. Bellatrix prowled the center, robes swishing, wand twirling lazily between her fingers.

"Pair off," she commanded, her tone rich with amusement. "Let us see who among you has some survival instinct."

Harry found himself opposite Hermione. Her expression was almost determined to prove herself before the watching eyes. Across the way, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis leaned together, their blonde and brunette heads close, whispering behind their hands.

"Look at him," Tracey muttered, not nearly softly enough. "Bet Harry's going to whoop the know-it-all's arse."

Daphne smirked. "Or maybe he'll get his arse handed to him by the Gryffindor girl."

The two Slytherin girls snickered together, their whispers carrying just enough for Harry and Hermione to hear.

Hermione's eyes flashed, but she said nothing, gripping her wand tighter. Harry caught the exchange, his mouth twitching.

"You two planning to duel each other, or just practice gossip charms?" he asked dryly.

Daphne tilted her chin. "Oh, don't mind us, Harry. We're just enjoying the show. Let's see if the Boy Who Lived can beat his clever little friend without holding back."

"Don't call me little," Hermione snapped.

Bellatrix clapped her hands, eyes alight. "Begin."

Hermione struck first, wand flashing as she cried, "Rictusempra!" A silver jet shot toward Harry, but he twisted aside and flicked his wand to deflect it. He pivoted on his heel, sending back a quick "Tarantallegra!" that streaked low toward her feet. Hermione countered with a sharp "Finite!" Sparks scattering as the spell dissolved. The crowd murmured in approval, her movements neat and exact.

Harry flowed around her defenses, not polished but natural, every reaction quick and instinctive. His wand snapped again, another "Rictusempra!" lancing across the space. It struck true, catching Hermione off balance. She staggered backward, her wand slipping from her hand.

Silence filled the hall for a heartbeat, then whispers erupted.

Hermione's cheeks burned, half from the sting of losing, half from Daphne and Tracey's giggles.

"Oh, that was quick," Tracey called, her tone sugary and cruel. "All that studying, and Harry still had you flat on your back."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "You volunteering to test that next?"

Tracey flushed but grinned, hiding her smirk behind Daphne's shoulder.

Hermione bent to retrieve her wand, her lips pressed tight. She did not look at Harry as Bellatrix's voice rang out.

"Efficient. Just as I like it." Her applause was slow and mocking. "You have a gift, Potter. And Miss Granger, you lasted longer than I expected."

Hermione bristled, but said nothing.

Bellatrix dismissed the rest with a wave. Daphne and Tracey paired off gleefully, firing hexes at each other while laughing under their breath. One by one, students filed from the hall until only Hermione lingered near Harry.

"Potter," Bellatrix said lazily, lounging back into her chair as the Dueling Club wrapped up. Her quill scratched idly across a parchment she had no real need of. "Stay behind."

Hermione's head snapped up from the edge of the dueling platform. "He should be allowed to leave with the others," she said quickly.

Bellatrix's lips curved. One arched brow lifted in mock surprise. "Are you questioning a professor, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's voice faltered. "I only meant—"

"Run along," Bellatrix cut her off, her tone sharp as steel beneath the silk. "I need him."

Hermione hesitated, jaw tightening. Her gaze darted to Harry, desperate for him to protest. For the briefest moment, jealousy flared hot in her chest, unwelcome and unhidden. "This isn't fair," she whispered.

"Life rarely is," Bellatrix replied, eyes glittering. Her next word cracked like a whip. "Out."

Hermione's fists clenched at her sides. She opened her mouth, but Harry shifted where he stood, meeting her eyes. His face gave nothing away, but his voice was calm, deliberate. "Go on, Hermione."

Her throat worked. For a heartbeat, she looked as if she might refuse, but then she turned sharply and strode away. Her footsteps rang hollow on the marble floor until the massive doors boomed shut behind her.

Silence pressed down.

Bellatrix's smile widened as she rose from her chair, sweeping past the scattered dueling tables. "Come along, Potter," she murmured, her tone low and taunting. "We cannot have a private word here."

Harry followed without speaking. Students' voices still echoed faintly in distant corridors, but Bellatrix cut a sharp path through the castle, her robes swirling behind her. They climbed the stairs in silence, the torches flickering as though stirred by her presence. At last, she led him into a shadowed corridor and through a carved door bound with iron.

Her quarters smelled faintly of parchment and smoke, laced with clove and wine. She moved gracefully to a desk strewn with papers, sitting with her back arched and her wand tossed carelessly across the wood.

"I hardly see you these days with your friends on the weekend," she murmured, her voice silken as she dipped her quill once more. "Lily must be keeping you very… busy."

Harry stiffened.

She chuckled low, her other hand drifting from parchment to brush lightly against his thigh. The movement was slow, deliberate. Her nails grazed the fabric, teasing upward with calculated pressure until she felt him twitch beneath.

"Well," Bellatrix purred, her lips curling, "at least you are not too tired for me."

Bellatrix dipped her quill again, eyes fixed on the parchment in front of her. The steady scratch of ink filled the room. Her free hand slid casually across the desk until it brushed Harry's thigh.

"Closer, Potter," she murmured without looking up.

He shifted forward, pulse racing. With a flick of her wrist, she tugged open his trousers, the button snapping free. The zipper slid down, and his underwear came away in one smooth tug, baring him to the air. His cock twitched upward, half hard already, swollen from the tension simmering between them.

At last, she glanced down, lips curling. Her fingers toyed idly with the sparse tuft of hair at his base. "Adorable," she purred. "Barely grown, already knocking up fantasies in your mother's bed. Does she laugh at this little patch when you fuck her, or does she just spread herself and beg for her baby boy?"

Harry's jaw tightened. "She doesn't laugh," he rasped. "She… she loves me."

Bellatrix chuckled, low and wicked. "Oh, sweet boy. Love makes the filth taste even better."

Her hand closed around him firmly, pumping in slow strokes. His breath hitched, hips twitching forward despite himself. His fingers dug into the edge of the desk.

"Stop…" he gasped, though his cock pulsed thickly in her grip.

"Your body says otherwise," she whispered. Her quill never stopped scratching notes across essays, her wrist moving smoothly even as the other hand worked his shaft. "Does Lily stroke you like this, hm? Or does she only climb on top and squeeze you dry?"

His face burned crimson. "She… she does both."

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, shame and heat choking his throat. Bellatrix's laugh was sharp with triumph.

The pressure in him coiled too fast. His thighs trembled, his groans building, spilling raw from his throat. His cock jerked violently in her fist.

"Morganna!" he choked.

Hot spurts erupted across her hand and the desk, thick ropes striping her fingers. She milked him mercilessly, every squeeze dragging another gasp from him until he sagged against the desk, panting and weak.

Bellatrix held up her palm, seed dripping in strands between her fingers. She licked it slowly, moaning at the taste, sucking each finger clean until her lips shone.

"Delicious," she purred. "I see why Lily keeps you hidden."

Harry swallowed hard, eyes still glazed. "You're twisted," he whispered hoarsely. "She'll kill you if she finds out."

Bellatrix knelt before him in one graceful motion, robes pooling around her like a dark river. Her hand slid up his thigh, nails scratching lightly, before she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the swollen head of his cock.

Harry's breath caught. "No, don't…" he stammered, but his hands clutched the desk edge instead of pushing her away.

Her mouth sank deeper, hot and wet, tongue swirling as she took him halfway in one glide. She hummed low in her throat, the vibration making his hips jerk forward.

"Stop," he groaned, his voice breaking as she drew back with a wet slurp, only to swallow him again. His cock stiffened fully, throbbing in her throat, the earlier orgasm doing nothing to blunt his sensitivity.

Bellatrix smirked around him, dark eyes flashing upward as she bobbed her head faster. Her tongue lashed the underside, teasing every ridge, while one hand pumped the base. Drool slicked her chin, dripping onto her robes, but she only moaned louder, savoring his taste.

Harry gasped raggedly, thighs trembling. "Stop… ah… we shouldn't," His words collapsed into a desperate groan as his hips betrayed him, thrusting shallowly against her mouth.

Her pace grew merciless, her throat relaxing to swallow him deeper. The wet, obscene sounds filled the chamber, echoing off the stone. His knuckles whitened on the desk, his jaw clenched tight as heat surged in his gut.

"Bella," he gasped, warning useless, his eyes squeezing shut. His cock pulsed violently, and with a strangled cry,y he spilled down her throat in hot, gushing spurts.

She moaned as she drank him, gulping every drop, not spilling a single streak. Only when the last twitch passed did she release him with a lewd pop, licking her lips clean. Her hand gave him a final stroke, coaxing a weak shiver out of his overstimulated body.

"Mmm," she purred, licking the last string of his cum from the corner of her mouth. "Twice in one sitting. You are full of surprises, Potter. No wonder she sucks you dry. Poor thing's been parched for years."

Harry slumped back against the desk, breath shallow, color rising in his cheeks. "You're… insane," he said hoarsely.

Bellatrix rose gracefully, seizing his chin and kissing him hard. Her tongue invaded his mouth, coating his tongue in what she'd sucked from his dick moments ago. When she pulled back, her lips curled into a glinting, savage grin.

"Because I can," she whispered against his lips. "And because Lily should learn to share."

She shoved him back into his trousers, fingers lingering just long enough to draw another breathless jolt from him, then straightened with casual ease. "Come along, Potter. Let us show Mummy what a good boy you've been."

His eyes widened. "You're mad if you think she'll just let this go."

Bellatrix smirked, looping her arm through his as if escorting a suitor. "Mad? Perhaps. But I do so love a family affair."

Together they walked down the quiet corridor, her laughter curling like smoke in the dim light. Harry's legs were unsteady, his cock still aching from use, his lips marked by her kiss.

At last, they reached Lily's quarters. Bellatrix didn't bother knocking. She shoved the door open with a flourish, dragging Harry in beside her.

Lily stood waiting, her nightdress clinging to her damp skin, wand already raised. Her gaze snapped to Harry first, then to Bellatrix's smug grin and the faint sheen still glistening on his lips.

Bellatrix licked hers deliberately, humming in mock delight. "I thought I'd return him to you… warmed and ready for another round."

Lily's nostrils flared the moment Bellatrix swept Harry into the room. His cheeks were flushed, his shirt hanging loose, his lips still damp from a kiss he had not given her.

Her eyes narrowed. "You touched him."

Bellatrix leaned against the doorframe as if she owned the place, her smile sharp as glass. "Touched? My dear Lily, you make it sound so tame. I tasted him." Her tongue slid across her lips with deliberate slowness. "Young, eager… You do spoil him."

Harry froze between them, pulse hammering in his throat. Lily's jaw tightened, her wand steady in her hand. "He is mine."

"Mine?" Bellatrix's laugh coiled low in her chest like smoke. "You sound jealous, Lily, as though you do not trust your little boy to stay loyal. Perhaps you should remember that men tire of one flavor quickly, even when that flavor is their mummy's."

"Say another word like that and—" Lily began, but Bellatrix tilted her head and cut her off with a purr.

Bellatrix only tilted her head, a purr slipping from her lips. "Or you could stop hoarding him and finally share. You in front, me behind. Imagine how beautifully that scene will be. We would show him what the true pleasure of being pressed between mature women feels like."

Harry's breath caught, heat flooding him despite the danger in her words. "Mum, she is…" His voice cracked, torn between protest and aching desire.

For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then, to Bellatrix's surprise, Lily's lips curved into the faintest smile. "You think I wouldn't allow it," she said softly, her voice trembling with steel. "But maybe Harry deserves to know what it feels like to be fucked by two women at once."

Bellatrix's grin widened, delight glittering in her eyes. "Well, well," she whispered, stepping closer. "Maybe I misjudged you, Lily. I rather like this side."

Chapter 3: Hole Hole Keyhole

Chapter Text

Lily's hand on her willow wand did not lower immediately. Her wand stayed trained on Bellatrix, the green fire of jealousy burning in her eyes. Yet slowly, deliberately, she drew a breath and forced her fury into shape.

With a flick of her wrist, she sealed the door and layered the chamber with a silencing charm, the silver shimmer of wards spreading over stone. Only then did she set her wand on the bedside table, close enough to snatch if she chose.

Her gaze fixed on Harry, his shirt still gaping open, his trousers clinging crookedly where Bellatrix had shoved him back into them. His face was scarlet, his eyes downcast, his shame plain. He opened his mouth to stammer an explanation, but Lily silenced him with a raised hand.

"It's alright," she said gently. "I can see what happened."

Bellatrix leaned her hip against the closed door, the bare skin of her thigh visible beneath her dishevelled robes. "Still worried about your son, aren't you? Don't fret. I haven't broken him… yet."

Lily's eyes lingered on her for a moment. "He's mine. And now he's more curious than ever."

Harry's cock twitched in his half‑undone trousers. His face flushed deeper, guilt and arousal warring on his features.

Bellatrix arched a brow. "He needs more than motherly training, Lily. You've raised him into a man. And you know, men develop an appetite for variety. That appetite only grows if you keep feeding it."

Lily stepped forward, not in anger or jealousy but with something softer, something resolute. Her eyes fell to Harry's trembling hands and his exposed chest. She ran her palm slowly over his sternum, her fingers brushing down his navel, feeling the frantic thrum of his heart beneath.

"You're still hard," she whispered, brushing her thumb along the skin just above his waistband.

He nodded, his cheeks burning. "I didn't mean to be."

"You're a growing boy," Lily murmured, her voice low and knowing. Her hand slid down his bare stomach, slow enough to make him shiver. "And it isn't your fault. Very few wizards could resist her advances. And she might be needing your help…"

Harry blinked, the heat in his cheeks deepening. "Help from me?"

Bellatrix gave a breathy laugh, her eyes gleaming. "She hasn't told you, has she?" she said sweetly. "Poor thing. You've already learned a thing or two from her and still don't realise why I'm really here."

Lily's hand paused, her smile never faltering, but the softness behind her eyes vanished. Her voice was smooth but clipped. "She came here to be impregnated, Harry."

Harry's breath caught.

"The Black family line is thinning," Lily went on, her fingers brushing idly against his chest. "No male heirs. No viable pregnancies in years. She wants a child. And she thinks you're strong enough to give it to her."

Bellatrix stepped away from the wall, the fall of her robes slipping further down one shoulder. "I don't think it," she said silkily. "I know it. Even your mother's glow these days has been noticed. I'm not the only one watching."

Harry swallowed hard. "You… really want me to get you pregnant?"

"Want?" Bellatrix tilted her head. "I came here for it, boy. But don't look so frightened. I'm not asking for forever. Just a few nights. Enough to be sure." Her tongue wet her bottom lip. "Strong magic needs strong roots."

She held his gaze. "And if you do," she added, voice lower now, "you gain more than a lover. Through me, you become the de facto head of the Blacks. That makes you stronger and safer — politically and monetarily. Especially with your lordship's rights coming due in a few years."

Bellatrix's eyes gleamed. She stepped closer, naked now save for her wand tucked behind her ear like a hairpin. "You think you'll be able to keep him hidden forever, Lily? He's nearly of age. When his name claims his seats, the vultures will circle. Greengrass, Rosier… even the old coot himself. Dumbledore has a way of twisting boys into banners. You want to keep him yours? Then you need allies."

Lily's jaw tensed, but she said nothing.

Bellatrix tilted her head, smiling like a knife. "I'm not here to steal him. I'm here because I know how valuable he is. But strong witches like me…" Her fingers trailed down Harry's stomach, pausing at the waistband of his trousers. "We don't get pregnant in one night. And even if we did, no one would know for weeks."

Bellatrix's fingers lingered at the fastening of Harry's trousers, nails grazing the fabric just above his hardness. "Look at this," she purred. "Your mother can teach you how to satisfy a witch, but she hasn't yet let you plant a child in her. That's where I come in."

Harry flinched as her fingers found the button. "Professor—"

Lily's eyes flashed. She stepped forward, voice cool but edged. "If you're here to be bred, you're not just going to paw at him. You'll do it under my terms."

Bellatrix gave a low, throaty laugh. "Jealous, Lily? Or finally ready to share?"

Instead of answering, Lily caught Bellatrix by the wrist and drew her from the door. Bellatrix stumbled back, still smirking, while Lily guided her toward the bed. One stocking had already slipped off in the scuffle, the other still fastened high beneath a thin garter. With each step, the robe slid lower, showing pale thigh, the curve of her hip, and the first dark curl above. Harry's breath hitched. His cock, already hard, twitched against his lower belly.

Only the throat clasp held. Lily found it and freed it in one practised motion. The robe fell and pooled at Bellatrix's ankles with a whisper. She kicked the cloth aside and stepped out, heels still on. A soft sound escaped her at the abruptness. She leaned back into Lily's hands as if testing her, nipples tight in the cool air, thighs parting on instinct. Lily's palm grazed the inside of one thigh and came away damp.

"On the bed," Lily said.

Bellatrix climbed onto the mattress. Naked skin gleamed in low light as she sprawled against the pillows. Her smile widened when Lily came close. Her eyes brightened from rough handling. She eased her thighs apart, almost an invitation, the grin still feral. Harry moved nearer, flushed with excitement, cock heavy and bobbing with each step.

Lily swung a knee to either side and settled over Bellatrix's face, holding her head light but certain between her thighs. Bellatrix braced her palms on Lily's calves and lifted her chin to meet her. The nightdress rode up Lily's hips, baring the soft swell of her backside and the slick heat between her legs. Warm breath bled through the thin fabric. Bellatrix's lips parted. Her hands slid higher from calf to thigh, urging Lily down.

"Since you are so eager," Lily said, low and even, "The deed will be done here, under my eyes. You will get what you want, but you will have to earn every drop."

She slid one hand from Bellatrix's wrist to the hem and lifted the nightdress. Slick heat met Bellatrix's mouth as Lily sank forward. A greedy tongue pressed out and licked a slow stripe, then circled with intent. Lily tightened her thighs and set the pace. A small rock of her hips smeared Bellatrix's mouth and nose with her arousal. Harry watched, chest rising, fingers flexing at his sides.

A slight shift of weight told Bellatrix what was expected. She answered with a low, hungry sound and slid her hands to Lily's hips. She held Lily there and lapped, swallowing each new roll of wetness.

"The more you satisfy me," Lily went on, "the more chance you have of getting what you crawled in here for. My boy's cock isn't a trophy for you to paw at. If you want his seed, you'll work for it."

A shiver ran through Bellatrix at the words. The smirk flickered, then steadied. She nodded against Lily's heat and went back to work. Tongue flattened. Then a quick flick. Then a light suck that shortened Lily's breath.

"Mmm," she breathed. "I do like it when someone is possessive."

Only then did Lily look over her shoulder at Harry. His cock stood flushed and leaking from all the teasing. Thighs tight. Stomach drawn. "Harry," she said, velvet over steel, "finish undressing her, but do it gently. It makes the witch yearn for you."

Lily's weight kept Bellatrix at the pillows and left her hips clear. Harry climbed onto the mattress at Bellatrix's side. Little remained to remove, so he took his time. He slid off each heel and threw them on the rug. He peeled the garter band from her thighs. He unhooked the single stocking still in place and rolled it down slowly, kissing the inside of her knee as he worked. The stocking slipped free at her ankle and joined the heels.

Harry slid between Bellatrix's knees and pushed them wider. Musky heat rolled off her. A dark, trimmed triangle crowned her mound. Her pussy was swollen and eager to be pleased. The outer lips were plush and flushed. The inner folds shone wine bright. The hood sat snug over a plump clit that showed with each breath.

He stroked his cock along her slit to slick the head. The broad crown came up shining. His foreskin rolled back and bared the thick ridge and the hard underside vein along that slight upward curve. He set the crown at her entrance.

Lily's thighs framed Bellatrix's face, nightdress rucked to her hips. Bellatrix's mouth and chin were wet and gleaming as she lapped Lily's pussy with reverence.

"Slowly," Lily said, voice steady and warm.

Bellatrix tipped her chin into Lily. "Come on, start already," she breathed, then sealed her mouth again and licked up hard to meet Lily's press.

Harry pushed. The first sensation he felt was tight and hot. Her entrance stretched with a wet catch, and the crown slid in. He held there and let her fluttering pussy welcome him, then fed her more, slow and measured, until his hips kissed the backs of her thighs.

The difference hit him. His mother's pussy was velvet deep, a steady, swallowing clasp that drew him down and kept him there. Bellatrix's pussy was narrow and greedy. Her cunt hugged the crown and tugged at the ridge on every pass. Slick and insistent for more. A quicksilver pull that made his breath stumble.

"Good," Lily murmured over her shoulder. "Now move slowly. Deep in, make her womb thirsty for your seed."

Harry drew to the rim and slowly sank back in with a slick, obscene squelch. He found her sweet spot on his own and targeted it with each thrust, the thick root bumping Bellatrix's clit at the end of every stroke. Her pussy fluttered in waves. Musk thickened the air. Wet strings stretched and snapped from his crown each time he pulled to the ridge.

Bellatrix gave a rough little laugh into Lily, then it slipped into a hungry moan. "Mm. Yes, right there." Lily's thighs trembled around Bellatrix's cheeks. A small, shocked sound escaped Lily as Bellatrix's tongue started fucking her. "Ah~"

Harry quickened his thrusts as if competing with Bellatrix's tongue, which was devouring his mother. The slap of his hips met the wet suction of her womb. Lily's soft, ruined sounds spilled above it and made the dirtier noise worse.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, breath breaking. "You are tight."

Bellatrix tried to smirk and lost it in need. "Tighter than your mother, I wager," she gasped into her, biting the boast off on a moan. She chased Lily up with a greedy tongue, mouth slick and devout for pleasure, as if she wanted to outdo her before her own womb was painted white.

Jealousy flashed over Lily's face. She rolled her hips down anyway and gave it to her, head tipping back, a thin yes slipping free before she caught it. "Make her beg."

Harry did not slow. His small frame pinned Bellatrix by the thighs and fastened the rhythm as the outcome was inevitable now. The sounds of moaning, licking, and fucking turned wet, messy, and relentless.

Her nails scratched the sheet below her. As her body fluttered around him, then seized. "Please breed me already," she managed, rough and wrecked, then only sound as he held the line that undid her. Her cunt clutched and tugged as if afraid to spill a single drop, gripping him from tip to base.

Lily fastened the set rhythm, the neat red thatch framing her pussy. She lowered herself until Bellatrix's tongue lay flat under her clit, then ground in small, steady circles. Her breath shortened. One sure roll of her hips and the taut string inside her snapped. Her climax came in tight pulses against Bellatrix's mouth, each pulse tugging along her inner walls and stealing a slice of air. She rode the afterbeats with measured pressure on the bud, then lifted a fraction to give Bellatrix a breath, thighs trembling as the wave eased to a flutter.

Bellatrix answered with a patient circle and a soft seal over Lily's clit. Lily settled again, one hand in Bellatrix's hair to guide, not grip. The tongue traced the hood, flattened, and held. Tension climbed fast. Her belly went tight. Her pussy clenched in small, grabbing squeezes. The second release broke clean, a rolling quake that ran from clit to womb and left her breathing in short, pleased bursts. She eased up once more, let the aftershocks taper to a warm thrum, and a pleased hum sat in her throat.

"Good," she murmured.

Lily lifted off Bellatrix's mouth, nightdress rucked to her hips, and shifted to the edge of the bed to watch, satisfied by Bellatrix's eagerness. She had never imagined Bellatrix would be this wild. Most pure-blood witches she knew were conceited and hidebound and treated sex as nothing more than a tool for reproduction.

Harry bent lower, braced himself on the mattress for leverage, and drove his cock deeper into the eldest Black sister's insatiable pussy. The snug catch of Bellatrix's heat gripped just behind the crown like a suctioning mouth, wet and fluttering.

He stayed buried and rocked the thick base against her clit in short, bruising pulses. Each grind dragged a gasp from her, hips jolting back to meet him, her walls milking greedily in tight waves. Her nails raked the sheets. Her spine arched as if she could split herself wider to take more.

"Make sure to cum inside her," Lily said, low and warm. Her voice trembled, but the command was calm. "She has certainly earned it."

Harry pushed until the crown kissed the soft mouth of her womb and held there as his control broke. He came hard. Heat surged out of him in thick pulses, emptying him in deep, flooding ropes. "Merlin," he gasped, voice cracking. "She is sucking me too hard."

Bellatrix shrieked as though hexed. Her arms wrapped tight around his back. Her thighs clamped around his waist. Her heels dug in hard, and her cunt clenched in thick, rippling waves, dragging at him like it could drain him to the last drop.

"Keep going," she panted, wrecked and urgent. "Do not stop till you breed me. I know you can."

He tried to pull back for air, and her body refused to let him go. The slick clutch dragged him in again with a wet, hungry choke. Bellatrix moaned hard at the suction, eyes glazed, mouth open against her own wrist. The obscene squelch grew louder as he rocked, breath shaking, letting her tightness keep him thick and swollen. Her folds clung to him, stretched and glistening, as if reshaped to his girth.

"Harry," Bellatrix whispered, voice shredded at the edges, lips still slick from Lily. "My womb is not satisfied yet."

Off to the side, Lily sat at the edge of the chaise. Her robes were hitched high. Her legs were parted, one hand between them, fingers circling her sensitive clit through her wet patch. She didn't speak. She didn't blink. Her gaze stayed fixed on the way her son was humping the raving Bellatrix. The way the older witch writhed under him. The way she moaned for him. Her twisted grin. Her slack mouth.

Lily's other hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing the nipple. Her lips parted. Her breath shortened. Jealousy burned behind her eyes, but it sharpened her pleasure. That cunt was just a lesson. That cock was hers. She had carved him into this.

Bellatrix turned sharply, wild-eyed, and caught Harry by the hair. Her mouth crashed into his, open and unrelenting, tongue forcing past his lips in a kiss that was brutal and deep. She kissed like she wanted to rip breath from his chest, to taste of pure ecstasy he was giving her. Her nails raked through his hair. Her body twisted up into his as her cunt clamped down again.

She glanced mockingly at Lily while she did it.

Her mad, glinting gaze stayed fixed as her tongue claimed Harry's mouth. Her hips jerked up to meet his, grinding as he thrust into her again, full and brutal.

Harry growled against her lips. His next thrust landed hard, hips crashing into the swell of her arse. His fingers dug into her waist, bruising her skin. Bellatrix moaned into his mouth, her whole body trembling under the force of him. Her legs stayed locked, welcoming every inch.

Lily's breath caught. Her fingers were soaked now, her strokes fast and wet, circling with feverish precision. Her other hand pressed hard under her breast. Her chest heaved once, but she didn't make a sound. She kept her mouth tight, her jaw clenched, her thighs trembling. She didn't beg. She didn't whimper. But her eyes locked on Harry's hips, on the way he drove into that body, and her rhythm only got faster.

Bellatrix's cunt clamped again, violently. Her body shook as the orgasm tore through her. She didn't pull from the kiss. She dragged him down harder, forcing him to stay inside while she writhed and spasmed. Her moan was low and broken, smeared through Harry's mouth. Her pussy milked him with greedy, twitching pulses.

Harry groaned thickly. His thrusts slowed. His balls pulled tight.

Then he came again.

He held deep, body shuddering, cock twitching as a second load flooded into her. His breath broke across her cheek, loud and helpless. He stayed locked to the hilt. The heat of it spilled deep. Bellatrix twitched around him, still kissing him, still looking at Lily.

At that exact moment, Lily came.

Her thighs jerked. Her back arched. Her fingers soaked the cushion beneath her, a sharp, hot squirt spilling between her legs. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped. Her body trembled hard. Her climax bled through her chest and gut, controlled but searing. Her eyes stayed locked on Harry, on the way his hips jolted, on the way Bellatrix whimpered through the final spasm.

Then silence.

Bellatrix went limp. Her legs slid wide. Her hands dropped. Her head lolled to the side. Her eyes were glassy, barely open, her mouth parted with no sound. Her cunt still fluttered around the cock buried inside her, but she wasn't there anymore.

Only then did Lily move. Her voice sliced through the still air like silk across skin. "Pull out of her."

Harry glanced down. Bellatrix's hips had gone slack, her legs twitching faintly where they'd fallen wide. He withdrew slowly. Her cunt clung to the last inch, dragging wetly along his shaft. A thick, glossy spill followed him out, drooling from her swollen slit in slow rivulets that pooled onto the sheets below.

Lily rose from her seat with quiet authority. Her nightdress was nowhere in sight, and the thatch of red hair between her thighs glistened damply, the skin beneath flushed from recent release. Without a word, she stepped forward and pressed a warm, slick hand to his shoulder.

Harry shivered at the contact. She guided him gently but firmly toward the bed, her touch leaving a faint trail of moisture on his skin. He obeyed, limbs loose with exhaustion, chest still rising too fast. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he sank into it, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

"I knew I'd have to share you one day," she murmured, voice calm, but threaded with something rougher. "I just didn't think it would be this soon."

She knelt between his legs, eyes never leaving his. Her fingers brushed along the firm lines of his thighs, nails light, teasing. She dragged the tips up toward his cock, already beginning to stir again despite the thick sheen still glistening across it. His dick twitched under her touch with eagerness.

"A witch like Bellatrix Black can't be left as enemy or friend," Lily went on, voice softer now, edged with pride. "But as a broodmare addicted to your cock…"

She leaned closer, lips hovering near the base, breath ghosting over the shaft. Her eyes gleamed.

"She becomes invaluable."

Harry's breath caught. He looked down at her, still dazed but steadying, and managed a helpless smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You make it sound like this was a strategy from the start," he said, voice rough. "Did you plan to weaponize your son's dick, or did that just… happen?"

Lily smiled, slow and knowing. Her fingers wrapped gently around the base, stroking once.

"If she were only the eldest Black sister, I'd have never agreed. But she's a professor now," she said, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "She has full access to you. Anytime. I can't keep you safe from her every hour of the day."

Her tongue flicked out to taste a streak of moisture at the underside, just below the crown. His cock jumped in her hand.

"So this," she whispered, licking again, slower, "was the best possible outcome possible, and it's not like you didn't enjoy it."

Her breath warmed the length of his shaft. She lowered herself, licking once from base to crown, a long, wet drag that left him twitching in her grip. Her lips parted and closed around the head in a soft seal. She sucked gently, then sank down. Inch by inch, she took him in. Her mouth was hot, slick, patient. Her throat opened for him, swallowing until her nose touched skin.

Harry groaned, hand sinking into her hair. Her throat worked around him, soft and snug, as she began to move. She rose with hollowed cheeks, then descended with languid weight, licking under the ridge before swallowing him again. Each motion matched the pace of his breath. It was not rushed. It was possession disguised as worship.

She pulled back with a wet sound and looked up, breath glinting on her lips. "No one in their precious pureblood circles would suspect a Black betraying their cause."

She gave him two slow strokes, her fist wet and confident, before taking him back, deeper this time. Her nose brushed his skin again, and her throat flexed to accommodate the full length.

Harry's jaw clenched. "Your mouth… it's like it was made for me."

Her eyes sparkled. She hummed softly in response, and the vibration made his hips jolt. Her hands stayed planted on his thighs, thumbs stroking small circles into his skin as she devoured him.

At first, her tongue was tender, lapping gently at the lingering slick left by Bellatrix, cleaning him in reverent swipes that followed each ridge, each pulsing vein. Her eyes never left his. There was that same fierce protectiveness behind her gaze, the kind she'd had since he could remember. But then the rhythm shifted. Her licks turned possessive. Her mouth opened wider. She took him again, no longer cleaning but claiming.

Harry's grip in her hair tightened. The sight of her, so calm and composed, kneeling between his legs, lips stretched around his cock, tore at the last fraying edges of his restraint. A low, primal sound escaped him as he began to bob her head on his cock.

Slowly at first, testing, then firmer. Lily yielded with fluid grace. Her throat relaxed. She let him push deeper, her lips stretched wide, her eyes fluttering shut as her gag reflex flinched and steadied.

She gagged once, soft and wet, then inhaled through her nose and settled into it. Her fingers dug into his thighs, anchoring herself as he took control, fucking her mouth with firm, deliberate thrusts. Each time he bottomed out, her throat hugged him. Each time he pulled back, she sucked harder, like she wanted to draw him back inside with vacuum force.

"Merlin, Mum," he gasped, the word torn from him without thought. His voice broke on the edge of restraint. Her eyes watered, but she didn't pull away. She sucked harder, cheeks drawn tight, lips shining. The obscene noises echoed, the slap of her mouth against him, the gurgle of spit, the faint wet choke when he held too deep.

Heat gathered low in his gut, rising like a spell about to burst. His thrusts grew faster, harder, timed with each contraction of her throat. Lily matched him, humming again, the vibrations rattling straight through him to his balls.

That was it.

With a raw, broken groan, Harry came. He shoved deep. His cock twitched in hard, pulsing ropes down her throat. Lily swallowed fast, not spilling a single drop, her throat working around him until he sagged forward, gasping, muscles trembling from the release. His grip loosened in her hair, soft now, petting instead of holding.

She pulled back at last. A strand of spit and cum stretched from her lips to the flushed head before she licked it away with a slow swipe of her tongue. Her voice was husky when she rose and kissed his mouth, tasting of sex and silk.

"For you, Harry," she whispered. "Always for you."

Learning from her earlier mistake, the wards around the room smothered every trace of noise, swallowing even the suggestion of debauchery. Lily thought herself clever. Years of easy magic had made her a little careless, though, and she forgot the oldest trick in the castle for spying.

Tonight, she was not the only one who discovered she liked to be a voyeur.

…

Hermione left the dueling hall still frustrated from the exchange with Professor Black. Fury and humiliation chased her through the corridors. She told herself she would wait for Harry, demand an explanation, something, anything that made sense of the professor's tone and Harry's unprovoked detention.

She ended up outside the Slytherin common room, the chill from the stone floor creeping through her shoes. She waited. An hour passed, then another half. Slytherins, ghosts, and even the portraits along the corridor stirred and drifted past, glancing at her in surprise, but Harry never appeared.

Restlessness gnawed at her. At last, she drew her wand. She frowned, then whispered, "Point Me, Harry Potter." The wand spun sharply toward the stairs.

Her stomach tightened. She followed the pull from the dungeons up the spiraling stone steps to the second floor. The air grew warmer, charged with the faint residue of protective spells. A shimmer hung ahead like heat above sand, faint and precise. A quiet glow pooled over a single door. A discreet brass plate on the lintel read L. Potter. She stopped.

She knew she should turn back. She had no reason to be here. Yet the Harry being beyond the door pressed her curiosity sharper than fear.

The torches along the wall burned low, washing the stone in amber and smoke. She raised her wand again, whispering a detection charm. The magic hummed, layered and interlocked, a perfect lattice that sealed every sound inside. Every ward looked flawless.

Except for one thing. The unguarded brass keyhole glinted bare.

Hermione stared at it. Logic and her adherence to rules told her to walk away. But curiosity drew her closer. She hesitated for a moment, but her inner Gryffindor won in the end. She bent forward, one eye to the tiny opening.

Hermione's breath came in shallow bursts from the sheer thrill as she pressed her eye to the keyhole, heart pounding in her ribs with every second. The wood was old, and the brass cold under her fingers. She knew she should walk away, but curiosity had her by the throat.

The slit gave her a narrow view, just enough to catch the corner of a large bed and part of a sheet dragging forward with hard, rhythmic jerks. At first, all she could see was Harry's naked lower back, the line of his spine arched tight as he thrust into something… no someone beneath him. His trousers and robes were gone. Each time he rocked forward, the bed seemed to creak like a curse.

The pale, bare legs beneath him shifted. They locked around his waist and dragged him in deeper. Hermione could only see the bottom edge of them from her angle, calves and knees lifting, feet bracing on the mattress. But the skin was sweaty and rosy and scattered with freckles.

The last person she had seen Harry with was Professor Black.

Her pulse spiked. Her mouth went dry. She pressed closer, as if closing the distance might make it untrue. But it was there. Harry's arse flexed as he rammed forward again, harder, deeper. She couldn't hear voices, but she didn't need to. Bellatrix's hips jolted in reply.

Hermione couldn't breathe. Her brain screamed at her to move. Her body refused. Her thighs clenched.

Harry rocked back again. The movement revealed a glimmer of wetness clinging to his cock before it sank out of view. Just a flash, but it was enough. The thickness of his glossy and hard cock, vanished between Bellatrix's legs with a wet sound she felt more than heard. She swallowed hard as a small pang of jealousy struck her heart. She hated herself for it.

Something shifted in her peripheral view. A second figure, lower to the ground. Hermione's eye tracked it instinctively. Just beyond the bed, in the gap between the wardrobe and chaise, a woman sat slouched in shadow. Her red hair spilled down over one shoulder. Her nightdress had ridden high, past her hips. Her fingers moved fast between her legs, the fabric of the chaise already dark beneath her.

Professor Potter.

Hermione recoiled half an inch, then froze. She could only see her hand working frantically over her bush. But that was enough. No one else had hair that red in the entire school, and who else could be in her quarters except herself? Harry's mother, moaning silently while she watched her son fuck another woman.

Hermione's entire body flushed. Her knees knocked together. Her nipples had stiffened, and something slick was already soaking through the seat of her knickers. Her heart hammered with a panic that couldn't escape.

She watched Harry snap his hips forward again, the flesh between his thighs catching the lamp's gleam for one raw second as it plunged deep into Bellatrix's unseen cunt. The sheer number of rules being broken made her gasp.

She didn't even hear the footstep.

A hand clamped over her mouth.

Hermione jerked, wand slipping from her fingers with a soft clatter. The grip on her waist was tight, and a warm body pressed against her back.

"Well, well," came the whisper, breath hot against her ear. Pansy Parkinson. Her voice was low and mocking. "Granger, I didn't know you had the nerve to spy on professors. How very unlike the usual teacher's pet of you."

Hermione struggled, but Pansy only drew her closer, her mouth brushing the shell of Hermione's ear.

She leaned forward and took Hermione's place at the keyhole. Her breath hitched immediately. Her hips pressed against Hermione's rear in a slow, involuntary grind.

"Oh… bugger me. Now what would your little Gryffindor friends say?" Pansy whispered. "Watching Potter rail a professor while his mum diddles herself stupid?"

"He's got her pinned. Look at that filthy whore, legs wide and soaking. Is that… yes. His cock's ploughing her. Her legs are twitching… he's making her come again."

Hermione shivered. She could feel Pansy's arousal through their clothes. She could smell soap, perfume from her, and something muskier beneath.

"Oh, and Mummy's getting close," Pansy murmured, her voice thick. "Look at her. Hips jerking, fingers soaked… she's about to flood that chaise. Potter got them both strung out like whores."

Hermione tried to turn her face away, but Pansy's hand caught her chin. Their eyes met. Pansy's pupils were blown, lips parted in a hungry grin.

"You're wet too," she whispered, voice silk and poison. "You're soaked, Granger."

Hermione whimpered behind her hand, face burning with shame.

"Pansy, we should not be here," Hermione managed, voice thin. Her pulse would not slow. The sheer obscenity and taboo radiated through the warded wood door in waves that made her dizzy.

"Oh, spare me the righteous act." Pansy straightened, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "I always said you people don't understand how the wizarding families really work. But this… this is delicious."

Hermione's face went white. "What do you mean, you people?"

Pansy's smile was sweet and cutting. "Mudbloods who think they understand everything they see." Then she twirled her wand once and whispered, "Silencio."

Hermione's protest died in her throat.

"Shh." Pansy's voice softened to mock sympathy. "You'll thank me later. You're about to rattle this entire corridor, and I don't fancy detention for ruining someone's good time. Especially not hers."

She hooked her arm through Hermione's and pulled her from the keyhole. Their footsteps rang soft and uneven over the flagstones as Pansy half-dragged her down the hall. At the corner, the shimmer of the moonlit corridor vanished behind them.

"Finite." The charm snapped quietly, breaking the silencing spell with a faint shimmer in the air.

"There," Pansy purred. "Now you can scream all you want."

Hermione staggered a step, breath returning in a harsh rasp. "You don't understand what we just saw."

"Oh, I understand perfectly." Pansy's grin turned cruel. "And if I were you, I'd forget faster."

She stepped in close, breath brushing Hermione's cheek. "In fact, you'd better forget I was ever there. Completely. Otherwise, someone might start whispering that you wanted in."

Hermione flinched. Her legs felt unsteady. Her thoughts wouldn't stay in one place. She didn't know if she wanted to hex Pansy or collapse and cry.

Pansy tilted her head, satisfied. "Don't worry, Granger," she said, turning toward the stairs. "Your secret's safe… as long as you forget mine."

Hermione stayed frozen, trembling. The castle smelled of candle smoke and ozone, the aftertaste of strong magic. Only when Pansy's footsteps vanished did she turn back toward the grand staircase. And as she gripped the banister, her hand still shaking, she knew one terrible thing with absolute certainty. She would never be able to look any of Potter in the eye again.