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Draco Malfoy was only mildly surprised when he walked into the dining room of the Malfoy tent and saw Daphne Greengrass eating lunch with his mother.
Bugger, he thought, irritated. It was no secret that he was sick to death of being forced into the company of the girl. There was no doubt that both she and her sister Astoria came from good breeding stock, even for Selwyn-spawn. In the off-chance that something happened to Androcles Selwyn, the current heir and Daphne's uncle, it would fall upon her to inherit the Selwyn legacy, one that could be his if he agreed to be betrothed to her in the first place.
Hah! Thought Draco spitefully. Fat chance of that happening if he had any say in the matter. And thankfully, he did.
'Ah, good noon, Draco," said Daphne in a sickly-sweet tone that grated on Draco's nerves. "Aunty Cissa came to our tent earlier, but Astoria was out with friends. Mother and Father had an important guest to attend, so I invited myself for lunch. I hope you won't mind."
"There is nothing to mind, Daphne," said Mother. "Honestly, I'd have preferred it if Draco actually got along better with you."
"I call that wishful thinking, Auntie," said Daphne, that plastic smile still stuck on her damnable face. Daphne, he was sure, was half-fae. Just like those tricky blighters, she was perfectly capable of twisting and manipulating facts and tricking people into unreasonable bargains.
It didn't help that Mother wanted him to get rid of Pansy for good, and instead marry Daphne. It had taken more than one heated session between her and Father to reach an acceptable compromise — him marrying Astoria instead of Daphne. Technically, Astoria too could inherit the Selwyn legacy, provided Daphne never married. Not too difficult, Draco thought. The crazy bint could freeze ice inside her snatch.
"Wishful thinking?" repeated Mother, giving her an arched look. "Surely you jest, Daphne."
Daphne giggled, and Draco knew it was just as false as anything else he knew her to do. It was like every single time they were together, Daphne took her acting to epic proportions. If he didn't know any better, he'd have claimed that she went out of her way just to push his buttons. A silly thought, no doubt, since he was a Malfoy, and Daphne was hardly talented enough to even develop a mental shield, let alone train herself to become an expert legilimencer like Professor Snape.
Daphne laughed again, her face lighting up in true amusement. Had Mother said something funny he missed?
"Looking forward to the new year?"
"Oh yes," said Daphne. "Very much, indeed. This summer has been most surprising for most of us, I'd say. Wouldn't you agree, Draco? News about your postponed Azkaban trip spread like wildfire amongst the group. Should make for an interesting term this year."
Draco went red.
"That's an exaggeration, dear," said Mother calmly. "You should know better than to listen to gossip spread by the lesser-born, Daphne. Whatever happened between my son and Potter was —"
"Isn't it true that he used an Unforgivable?" Daphne probed. Even Draco had to give her points for how innocent she sounded.
"Whe— where did you hear that?" Draco demanded. He had thought that the entire matter was sealed for good, and any witnesses appropriately silenced.
"I talked to Inglebee," said Daphne, jubilant. "Who talked to Fawley, who talked to Carrow, who talked to Smith, who said that Burke said that she was crossing the street when she saw Abbott and Bones in Foretesque's parlour, screaming when you cast the Imperius curse on Harry Potter. I've also heard that Potter didn't even need to cast a single spell to take you and your two goons down."
Draco's eyes went wide, as did his mouth. For a second, he was too surprised to speak.
"Daphne dear," said Mother again, but this time, the note of steel in her voice didn't go amiss. "I'll repeat myself. Whatever happened between my son and his friends and Potter was simply blown out of proportion. We are of Black and Malfoy blood, and greatness engineers spite in others, and spite spawns lies."
"A lot many people must be believing in those lies then, Auntie Cissa," said Daphne brightly, matching gazes with Mother. "I've heard about you settling with Potter at the DMLE. I've heard about Draco getting a permanent mark on his DMLE record. I've heard about Potter saving Draco's arse from Azkaban out of pity. I've heard that Draco was denied his Black Lordship. I've…." she trailed off. "Well, did I get at least some of them correct?"
Draco and Mother looked at each other for a second. Finally, Mother sighed and spoke. "Only the superficials, Daphne. I wouldn't say I settled with Potter, but merely gave him an idea of how much further the situation could devolve into. My son is still going to be the Lord of Black, but given his recent behaviour," she gave him a dark look. "Me and Lucius decided that he is not ready yet, and will revisit the issue after he gets his NEWTs."
"A pity," drawled Daphne, her smile making Draco want to scrub himself with boiling hot water. "Did you know, Potter also took up the mantle of Lord Potter this summer?"
"He… what?"
"Oh, nobody told you?" asked Daphne, enjoying it way too much for his tastes. She quietly wiped her lips and got up from her chair, nodding at Mother, before meeting his eyes. "He is also doing business with Father, and spent two days at our mansion. Father is planning on proposing my name for marriage with him."
Draco looked at her speechless, before a bark of laughter escaped his lips. "Potter? Marry you? You're delusional, Greengrass. Potter hates Slytherins with a passion. Your father must be really desperate to get rid of you if he's trying to send you off with Potter."
"Draco," said Mother imperiously, getting up from her chair. "Daphne here is a family friend and a guest. You will behave appropriately with her."
"Of course, Mother," he replied automatically, noting the words held a steely command. Ever since the onset of the summer holidays, Narcissa Malfoy had been asserting more and more authority within the House. Especially with Father being away on business for most of the time, and with her mother's… unusual needs, she had been taking more and more decisions for him. That she had quite successfully twisted the debacle with Potter without any potential fallout had pleased Father when he came to know about it, and he had deferred to her to take care of Draco's future marital decisions.
His mother placed her napkin on the table, and swept out of the room gracefully, without another word.
Draco decided that ignoring Daphne was the best move and so helped himself to some lunch.
Daphne snorted.
"Your unwanted opinion on him aside," she said, "House Potter is Nobility, much like House Black. And what little I've seen of him, he's keen on establishing himself in the herb trade, and House Greengrass can help him there immensely. Both Father and Mother are very… charmed by him. I can almost see him having regular business with them both from now on."
Draco snorted. "Big words, Greengrass. Uncle Broderick is Father's business partner. And Father would never allow him to get you married to Potter, assuming he even agrees. He's probably wagging his tail for that muggleborn werewolf of his. And Lord or not, Potter is a halfblood. There's no way your father would marry you to him. All he's waiting for is for me to say yes, even if it is for the position of a second-wife or worse."
"Things have changed," said Daphne, smirking. "Potter is already Lord of an Ancient and Noble House, and in business with Father. He even helped him out of a tight spot. I've heard that Harry is also a potential Black candidate. From his great-grandmother, no less."
Draco bristled. "I'm the Lord Black!"
"Not until the next four years you're not," said the bitch, casually inspecting her fingernails. "And with your little stunt with the Unforgivable, you'll need to make a formal appeal before the Wizengamot before you attempt an Ascension." She let out a cruel laugh. "That's unless you get jumpy and cast another Unforgivable and get carted off to Azkaban."
Draco scowled. Truth be told, he had always known that he held his place in Slytherin House because of his father; the Malfoy name, status and wealth kept most of his contemporaries in line, and the upper years would rather ignore him rather than risk upsetting him and provoking consequences for their families's business dealings. What was beginning to sink in, since this summer, was that it hadn't been the Malfoy name, so much as the Black that allowed him the power.
In hindsight, it explained why Mother had always attempted to groom him to act like a perfect Black.
But now, with the mark on his DMLE record, things had gotten complicated.
It wasn't fair. And it was all Potter's fault.
"Why…" began Draco carefully. "Are you telling me this?"
At that question, her attitude was replaced by a feral coldness, and a glint appeared behind her pale blue irises.
That should've been the first warning.
"Because," hissed Daphne Greengrass. "It's like you said. Father is desperate. And he wants to marry me to Harry bloody Potter. And I'd rather deal with you than suffer the Gryffindor Golden Boy and his ragtag group of mudbloods and blood traitors. Potter…. He's done something. I'm not sure of what it is, but Father has accepted him. He's even agreed to let him hire Mother as a consultant. Can you believe it? A pureblood, a Selwyn, reduced to a consultant for a filthy halfblood?"
She explained the whole thing in a single breath and hungrily breathed in more air for the next few seconds.
Whatever Draco had expected her to say, this was definitely not it. Still, Mother had spent entire days drilling into him about being rational in his dealings with Potter after the fiasco at Fortescue's, and Draco wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.
"It's Saint Potter," said Draco, trying to be the voice of reason. He wasn't accustomed to playing this role. "You said it yourself. Your father is in business with him. And I'm pretty sure he wouldn't think of marrying you to Potter if my father tells him otherwise."
He really should've paid attention to how he had shifted from challenging Daphne to supporting her within the same conversation. But even then, he had expected her to look at him with adulation or even gratitude, perhaps a compliment or two. Instead, she raised an eyebrow mockingly.
"You don't seem to realise it, do you, Draco?"
She crossed her legs in a way that emphasised her breasts and unwittingly enough, Dracos' eyes followed the undulating motion of those protrusions across her chest. Daphne had grown this summer, and was blooming far more than her younger sister.
And just like that, he lost his sails.
"...Realise what?"
"Harry Potter takes up the mantle of Lord Potter. Then he engineers a situation where you lose control and play into his hands, casting an Unforgivable in the middle of Diagon Alley. I know you can be short-tempered, but not even you are that stupid. I even heard something about compulsion charms."
Draco went red. Attacking Potter like that had been utterly brazen, and the more he thought about it, the easier it had been to imagine it had been because of the effects of a compulsion.
"I — er— yes, he might've! I'm — I'm not sure how things devolved like that! I mean me! Draco Malfoy, casting an unforgivable like that? Hah! Potter had to have done something! It's just common sense!"
There were so many warning flags popping up but Draco just braved through them with a confidence enough to make any Gryffindor go green with envy. Daphne was making sense, and looked like she would follow up on her plans despite his approval or disapproval.
"You're always going after Potter at school for whatever reason," egged Daphne. "I'm sure your suspicions about him being up to no good have turned out to be true at times."
Oh, how he wanted someone, anyone to say that! The last three years had been one foiled attempt after another. Sometimes it was McGonagall, sometimes the Headmaster, sometimes some crazy-arse miracle, or even Professor Snape! Potter's bloody luck always got him out of whatever nastiness he was brewing all the time.
"Imagine what he can do now, if left to his own devices. I've heard that the Potters were very wealthy, and had considerable say at the Wizengamot. What if… what if he was planning all this from the beginning? Maybe he's trying to sideline you from the Black fortune? It'd be right up his alley. Maybe if you're thrown into Azkaban, he could claim the Black fortune for himself, given how Sirius Black betrayed his parents to You-Know-Who and everything?"
His decision was made before Daphne could manipulate him any further. Even if their suspicions turned out to be false, there wasn't any danger behind it, he reasoned to himself.
"So, what's the plan?" He asked.
"Plan?" repeated Daphne blankly. "I thought you were the one with all the plans. Potter is currently in my tent, talking to my parents. I didn't want to smell his halfblood stench so I walked away with Auntie when I spotted her. All I know is that he's come to watch the finals with the mudblood. I just thought maybe, with so many people around, you could figure out a way to teach him a lesson without anyone knowing any better." She sniffed. "Clearly, I overestimated you."
"Oh, shut it, Greengrass," scoffed Draco, standing up, his tone morphing from uncertain to confident. "I've got a plan. But it's going to need a little bit of help on your side."
"Oooh? What's it? What's it?" Daphne was practically jumping in excitement. " You'll teach him a lesson for good, won't you?"
"I will," sneered Draco. Yes, his path was set. Daphne was right. With so many people and with everyone busy with the Finals, it would be hilariously easy to mess with Potter and his mudblood. "Go back to your tent, and wait for my orders. I have Potter's humiliation to plan."
"Uh, if you say so, I'll just let you be, Draco," said Daphne, slowly stepping away from the tent, submission evident on her features.
Draco didn't see her leave. If he had, he'd have been terrified out of his wits to see that spark of amusement on her face.
It was a pity that the wizarding world didn't have pornstars. If it did, Broderick was certain Harry Potter could have made a killing. The Greengrass patriarch had to reluctantly agree that the young Potter Lord had a perfectly chiselled body, with a cock that put his own dick to shame. That the boy was currently sitting inside his room in the Greengrass tent, without a shred of clothing on him, next to his fully clothed wife didn't help matters either.
Or the fact that he was currently sitting in the next room, staring at the events inside through the reflective mirror artfully placed to capture the insides of the tent-room.
"Harry Potter!" exclaimed Anastasia. "Why are you not wearing pants? You think you can just walk in here and show off your body and I will change my mind and beg you to fuck me with your big bad cock? That might work for the halfblood sluts at Hogwarts, but on the Lady of House Greengrass. Why don't you change into something decent so that we can have a conversation?"
Anastasia, Broderick had to agree, had all the traits of a successful actress. Too bad the wizarding world didn't have any of those either.
"I'll sit with you, but I'm not going to change," said Potter. "Me being nude shouldn't matter, if it's a conversation you want. Unless… you're afraid you won't be able to control yourself."
"Hippogriff dung!"
Potter nodded, "Yep, I can see it in your eyes. If I tried you would let me fuck you right here on this couch and by the end you would beg me to fill you with my hot sticky cum."
"You're a sick bastard, how can anybody be so arrogant? You make me sick, you will never, ever; ever; fuck me anywhere, nor would I ever beg you for your hot sticky cum."
Her denial was almost very well done, thought Broderick, except for the very end. He knew he was nitpicking but describing Potter's cum as hot and sticky were counterintuitive to Anastasia's apparent efforts of showing him down.
"I've never been so repulsed!" exclaimed Anastasia. "What's the matter with you? That's exactly why you will never get me, or any girl like me. Women with decency and class don't respond positively to your childish disgusting advances."
Potter's sole response was to start stroking his cock. Anastasia just stared at him silently for several minutes. She was watching him intently, as if afraid to miss a single thing. Every stroke, every squeeze of the head of the giant trouser snake. Every breath, every sigh, and every noise Potter made against the leather couch as he stroked his cock. When Potter caught her looking, she looked down at her lap and closed her eyes.
Maybe there was something wrong with him, but Broderick couldn't help but feel fear, nervousness, excitement, anger and arousal. He was suddenly assured that the giant piece of man-meat would be tearing and impaling his wife's wetness thoroughly. And part of him was actually wanting Potter to lead things to that. Broderick wanted him to shove that entire cock into her tight little twat.
"Really, Ana, that's what you have got to say? A woman of decency and class? Your fucking husband let me stay in this room with you all to myself. What kind of fool does that? You'd be so much better off by just giving in. Let me show you what you're missing."
"He left us because he trusts me," said Anastasia, playing along. "You think sex is everything? It's not! It's a beautiful thing meant for lovers, not for animals consumed by lust. Your kind of sex means nothing, it pales in comparison to making love to your soulmate. Having the body of a Greek god and a cock that would shame a horse doesn't make up for the lack of a connection and intimacy. Even if we were to ever have sex, I'd not enjoy it."
Potter smiled, and it was a dark thing.
"Fine then. Let me correct your ignorance."
He stood up, and walked towards Anatasia, his cock revealed in unhindered glory. Anastasia just watched as he came closer with every single step, his cock standing straight as an arrow. Stiff as a board and radiating sexual heat like a forest fire, Potter pushed his massive cock at her gorgeous little mouth.
Broderick almost choked as his wife opened her mouth almost instinctively, letting the fist-sized head into her lips, with the rest of the meat slowly sliding into her mouth. When she gagged, Potter slowed her advance, but never quite stopped. Steadily with each gentle thrust of his hips, he got an inch deeper every single time he pushed until the entire appendage was inside her mouth.
Before he knew it, Potter was already pulling at Anastasia's shirt, lifting it all the way up to her neck. He snapped his fingers and her bra fell down, revealing her breasts. His wife had a look of disbelief in her eyes, as if she truly couldn't believe what was happening or how she lost control of the situation. The rawness of her expression made it incredibly difficult to believe that all of this was merely a scripted play for the duo's entertainment in which Harry Potter was merely playing a part.
She couldn't even respond even if she wanted to. He pulled her head towards his hips, forcing more of himself into her mouth. His hand was clamping down her head, and his cock brushing against the back of her throat if those gagging noises were any clue. Her eyes were watery and tears were dripping out, but Potter seemed not to care, and instead kept up his ferocious pace. He was breathing loudly and grunting, enjoying the feeling of Broderick's wife's mouth around him.
Broderick himself was so hard that it felt like his cock would explode. Some part of him was screaming at him that he was letting things devolve too far, but the rest of him was too busy jerking off to the sight of his wife sucking Potter's cock to register the first half. It was so erotic that he had to stand up, unable to sit down without feeling like his cock would blow up.
Almost in rhythm, Potter's thrusts got erratic and then he pulled out of Anastasia's face.
And then he exploded.
A thick wad fell over her temples. Another one covered her cheek, and one shot into her eye. Each glob was the size of Broderick's entire orgasm. A copious amount splattered over her hair, while two torrents slipped into her mouth.
"That's a good girl," he said at last. "I bet your husband doesn't fuck your face like that."
"No, he doesn't quite do it like that."
And with that, Potter turned around, facing the mirror and winked at Broderick's reflection.
Broderick stood up, his own cock now harder than ever. Potter's taunting grin somehow made him more excited than if he had been the one to fuck and cum Anastasia's mouth. The idea of what had happened was exhilarating, but knowing the next part of their little charade was going to be was simply tantalising.
And with that, Broderick stepped forward, his cock hard and dangling, ready to accuse his wife for cheating on him with Harry Potter. Truly, his sex life had never been more exciting.