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Some women loved to submit.
Was that what this feeling was? Was she taking pleasure in submitting to a man… a young man who was half her age, someone that she easily dwarfed at magical skill, political connections and life experience. A young man so mature that he was able to say no to her body, even after she had made a point-blank offer to have sex with him, and let him have her way with her. His maturity, his determination, his poise and his wisdom beyond his years, were all amazing things in themselves. Had Emmeline been a lesser witch, she'd have been seduced by those and becoming a Boy-Who-Lived groupie, just like Hestia.
And then there was the experience she had suffered inside Potter's mind, the sheer humiliation and the ecstatic pleasure that he had made her feel, and the intensely vulnerable feeling he had wrought had left her shaken. Even after leaving Potte's home, Emmeline had tried to forget the feeling of Potter's cock thrusting deep into her pussy like a machine, showering her with a pleasure that had eluded her for all this time.
And there was his cock. And his equally cocky personality.
Emmeline didn't want to admit it, but she had intended to give him a strip show, if only to see him stare at her beautiful body and act like someone of his age should've. Seeing him act like a hormonal kid would have been an instant turn-off, and Emmeline would have used it to reinforce the idea that Harry Potter, incubus or not, was just another sex-crazed kid.
But he hadn't.
Instead he just asked her to hurry up, and get to the point, as if getting to fuck the Lady Vance was something akin to paperwork in his mind. Just how did a sixteen-year-old gain that level of confidence in himself? It was very attractive, and he had worn her out by never giving her an inch as he slowly tore down her defences. And why shouldn't he? He was handsome, successful, with too much money to waste, and Nobility to boot. Only an idiot would ignore the fact that he was magically powerful, and from what little she had seen, he was also able to demonstrate a masterful level of control over Necromancy, and had a maturity way beyond his years, enough to make Hestia Jones to choose him over the Order of the Phoenix. He was also incredibly fit, and he had a cock that was larger than any other she had ever seen or heard about. And she was a horny woman that was already conflicted with the criminality of her husband, and magically confounded by his strange incubus powers.
Her opening her legs for him was inevitable, and the cocky prick knew it all along.
Fucker!
"You know, I wouldn't have let you fuck my face like that if your cock wasn't so perfect," she said, intending for this to come out with some bite, but instead it came out like a purr. She looked back at him, and found him staring back, eyebrows raised, his hands on her plump arse.
"I never intended to do any extra stuff here… just straight getting me to cum. That's all I wanted," she panted out angrily. "Especially after what Other-You did. I didn't want to get anywhere near your cock as soon as I saw it."
"Uh-huh."
Arsehole. He wasn't believing her!
"I wouldn't want to get close to it. I didn't want to touch it because it's so… big, and beefy, and hard," she said, feeling said hard cock touch her arse cheeks, and she slowly shook them, just to make it touch her a little more. "What Other-You did to me, I knew that if I touched your cock, I'd end up sucking it, like Other-you made me do."
"I see. That makes sense."
Emmeline clenched her teeth. He wasn't taking her seriously.
She hadn't lied to him. The moment she had seen that thick slab of man-meat exposed, she had attacked it with a hunger that surprised her, taking it all the way down to her throat. She couldn' deny the deep level of satisfaction she felt while performing the act. The only negative was the sheer revulsion she felt, knowing that she was doing this to someone half her age. If anyone ever found out about it, they'd accuse her of being a cradle-robber or something. She, Head-Oblivator, and one of the most well-respected women in the entirety of the Ministry of Magic, shouldn't have been down on her knees, sucking that big dick for so long, but she hadn't been able to stop herself from feasting. When he had facefucked her, all she could think about was having more of him. Her pussy was exploding with pleasure, but somehow, she still hadn't been able to come, and despite all the shocks of pleasure shooting through her, Emmeline had been refused an orgasm.
But that didn't mean she had to like it.
For she didn't.
Harry Potter was to blame for all of it. Yes, that was it.
"I fucking hate your big, perfect cock, Potter," she spat out, wiggling her hips more, feeling shivers of pleasure as his cock slid through her arse-cheeks. "Look at what it's making me do. Look at the slutty things this perfect cock is making me do…."
Said cock lodged itself in between her cheeks, and Emmeline felt a rush like she hadn't felt in the last two days.
"Never! I hate it! I am never doing this again!" she snarled at him. A satisfied 'mmm!' rose out of her throat as the bastard pushed his cock further down, and lined it along her folds.
"You're being such a hurtful bitch you know," he told her. "Here I am, doing you a favour. The least you could do is not hurt my feelings. I only facefucked you earlier to get you better acquainted with my cock before we got down to business."
"Favour my arse!" screamed Emmeline. "All of this is your bloody fault."
"Why? Because I told you to enter Lecherous Shrine? The choices are on you, my dear."
"Don't patronise me, Harry Potter!" She snapped, looking back at him again. It was an uncomfortable feeling, standing against the tree trunk like that. Why hadn't she just transfigured a bed for them instead? "You know very well what, Oh! Yes! Just like that. Tease my folds a little more."
"Like this?"
"Uh, yes," she moaned. "Just put it a little deeper. If you're going to tease me, do it right, young man!"
"Noted," he said, and diligently pushed a little further. Emmeline moaned in delight. Harry Potter was a bastard, but at least he was a conscientious one, and was doing his best under the circumstances. If only he had been a little older and she had been younger by a few years….
No! What was she thinking? She couldn't possibly have entertained something so scandalous even if —
"Say, Emmeline," he said, still running his dick along her pussy walls, pushing in just a little, and then pulling it out instantly, leaving her wanting for more. "You really don't hate my dick truly, do you?"
Her face screwed up, she looked back at him again, scowling.
"Of course I do," she told him off, pushing her arse backwards, feeling his cock dig in by an extra inch. Just a little more and she'd be able to contract her walls against it. "I hate it," she pushed a little more. "I hate it so much."
This time the cock went deeper.
"This would have been so… ahh!"
Deeper.
"I mean, so much deeper, I mean, so much simpler if — if your cock wasn't this amazing! Why couldn't have you been on the other side of average? I hate you and your fucking cock so much!"
Her walls contracted.
"Can we just get to the fucking now?" She demanded. "You're really pushing your luck here, Harry Potter."
As if her words had triggered something within him, Harry grabbed her arse tighter, squeezing it. Emmeline moaned as pain and pleasure hit her in equal amounts, and felt him shove his cock forward, meeting resistance as he tried to push it all into the depths of her womanhood. Her pussy was small and snug, like it should be, and it was made for proper, nice, boring, average-sized cocks, not freaking beater bats. But he wasn't backing down, and she was as ready as she was ever gonna be, burning with need and soaked with juices at the feeling of being penetrated.
"Ugh! Fuck!" She groaned, his massive meat too much to bear for her underworked pussy. It had been far too long since she had gotten laid, and no, the recent unexpected jumping on Harry Potter's cock while he slept didn't count. And her husband wasn't exactly a pussy-pleaser by any means, and the best she could expect would be two minutes to fame and then done.
Harry's on the other hand, it was the largest thing she had ever encountered. But she was taking it like a champ, allowing more of him inside of her. Her walls soon swallowed the entire thing in one go.
"Mmmm…" Harry grunted, pulling back and thrusting back with extreme vigour. Emmeline yelled and cursed as her entire body shook with his thrusts, and several times she came close to getting hit in the face by the tree trunk. She really should've cast a cushioning charm on it, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Keep going… keep going," she sighed, her throat tensed up as she adjusted to his size. "All the way!"
Harry being the diligent soul he was, gave one unholy thrust, and buried the entirety of his huge dick inside her insanely tight pussy, his torso colliding with her arse.
"Ahhh! FUCK!" Emmeline screamed out, feeling filled to the brim with an insane amount of dick in her. Yes, this was what she was missing. This was going to scratch that itch that had plagued her ever since she had left his blasted house. She hated that she was forced to resort to this, but she needed it, or she'd go insane. No, what was she saying? She needed it, or else she'd be just that bothered, and it would hinder her attempts to undo whatever magical enthrallment Other-Harry had done to her.
Her pussy adjusted to its invader, and spasmed around it as it moulded itself around the bone-hard pillar, her cunt almost feeling like it was being reshaped into a new one.
"OH!" Emmeline let out a guttural groan, feeling the wind taken out of her as she got stuffed with that big cock again. And again. And again. Harry was beginning to work himself to a pretty good pace as they moved past the point of adjustment to full-out hardcore fucking.
"Ugh! You're in my womb!"
"Is that deep enough for you?"
"I don't think it could get any deeper," she groaned, her throat feeling parched and tight as he kept pistoning in and out of her, hitting her deeper and harder than her husband had ever done. His torso was colliding with her arse constantly, and her entire body was glistening with perspiration from the intense fuck session she was enduring.
Yes, he was scratching that itch.
Yes, she would finally be able to cum.
And then as if she hadn't been humiliated enough, he grabbed her tits and pulled them back, making her scream in pain and ecstasy. Feeling his coarse, Quidditch-playing fingers twist her nipples and maul her breasts and use his momentum to squeeze them tighter and tighter only made her want to squeal in happiness. Yes! This was a pleasure she had never felt. This was what she had missed all her life!
This… this felt really fucking good!
Her head fell back again as she just took it. It was like there was an untapped well of pleasure inside her, and his cock was hammering closer and closer to that reservoir.
"You like that?"
SMACK!
"You like me thrusting into you?"
SMACK!
"You like being thrust against that trunk, naked like a Knockturn Alley slut, while I take you from the back?"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Fuck you!" said Emmeline. "You know the answer!"
She dug her nails into the tree bark, as her entire form shook at his vigorous thrusting.
"I want you to admit it out loud."
"Haha! Never!" She laughed. "Ugh! Faster!"
"Unacceptable!" He declared. "I'll make an honest woman out of you, Emmeline. I'll make you scream that you're a whore for my cock."
"Dream on, little boy! Dream on! You're just a— Ugh! Fuck that hurts so GOOD!"
And then Harry pulled his cock out, and spun her around, and pulled her towards him. Her legs feeling like jelly, Emmeline gasped and fell upon him, her hands around his neck as he simply lifted her into the air like she weighed nothing. She barely even had time to take in that fact before he waved his hand over her face, and hit her with a wandless Scourgify, vanishing every bit of cum off her face and mouth faster than she could even perceive, and closed in on her lips and his tongue was practically duelling hers. She grabbed onto his upper arms, her heart fluttering as she gripped his massive biceps, feeling the muscles ripple underneath, as he thoroughly violated her mouth, her tongue surrendering meekly as his swirled around hers. She gasped at the intensity of the kiss, and the sheer abruptness which he suddenly then cut off, pushing her up by her arse, raising her into the air by the strength of just his hands, like a goddess being worshipped by her god. Dimly, she recognised that he was still holding her like that without any support, and wondered just how strong he actually was.
And then he let her sweaty body slide down.
And impaled right into his mammock cock.
"FUCCCCKKK!" Emmeline yelled as if he had just impaled her with a dagger. It wasn't far off from the truth either, and the only thing she could do was drape her legs around his waist and grab him for dear life, as he grabbed her arse and lifted her up, and then let her fall down. And again. And again. His cock was holstered into her completely, and everytime he raised her and dropped her, Emmeline felt like she died just a little only to be reborn again. This wasn't fucking, wasn't enthrallment, wasn't seduction. This was pain and pleasure of the highest order, something so primal that nothing, no Occlumency, no mental shielding, no emotional dampeners could ever hope to counter. They were man and woman in the primal sense of term, brought together for the most primal of behaviours.
The need to have pleasure and copulate.
"Ugh! Shit!" Emmeline spat out, shaking her head madly, as his cock kept hitting her sweet spot every single time, driving all the way in and forcing itself out, and then back in. It was ecstasy. It was agony. He had her completely under her control, and there was nothing she could do to dissuade him. All she could do was scream her lungs out as he kept reshaping her pussy while giving her pleasure she had never imagined possible.
And she had yet to cum.
"Say…" he said, giving no indication of being exhausted. "Are you willing to accept that you are doing this because you love my cock?"
Who is this man? She wondered deliriously. How can he fuck so well? How is he holding me like that without any care? This — yes, Harry Potter isn't a man.
He is a demon.
An incubus.
And I'm his prey. And I'm loving it.
"Fuck ! You! BEAST!" She screamed, her body tightening up, shaking her head. Her breasts were now wobbling lewdly as he drove his cock into her. And as if he hadn't already broken every single conception she had about him, he let his hands go off her arse, and grabbed her breasts. Emmeline widened her eyes as she felt herself slide further and further until the entire cock was lodged into her pussy, and regardless of the pain, the first thing she felt was fear. Fear that she'd fall, and possibly break a bone, and his cock.
But it didn't.
For she didn't.
Instead, she just stayed there, held by invisible hands, while Harry grabbed her tits and began sucking at them with a childlike glee. It took her a moment to actually realise that he was actually levitating her using magic. And then she felt herself rise up, and grabbed his neck tightly.
It wasn't necessary.
For his feet were leaving the ground too.
Up and up and up they went. And not once during the entire process did he stop fucking her with his cock, and squeeze and bite into her breasts like a hungry child. Emmeline only held him for dear life, knowing that her clothes and her wand were back on the ground, as well Harry's clothes and his wand, and they were at least forty feet above the ground.
Harry hadn't even spoken a word.
Hadn't used his wand.
And the point had been made.
Emmeline stared slack-jawed at Harry Potter's overt display of magical power. She had all but forgotten the feeling of being skewered over his shaft, and was staring at his face with something like awe. Especially considering that he wasn't even holding her up with his arms, choosing to maintain both of their levitation states parallelly, without the slightest clue that he was even doing it consciously.
Instead he just pinned her with his gaze, as he kept pistoning into her.
This unholy power! Was this the power that brought the Dark Lord down the first time? Sixth-level Occlumens and seventh-level Legilimens, Emmeline Vance couldn't help but stare at the man fucking her with a look of deepest reverence. Of course it was difficult to even focus on him, what with his cockhead spearing into her constantly, her limbs spasming violently, and her entire frame being overloaded with lust.
"Merlin!" She screamed out, lights flashing before her eyes, as she dropped her head on Harry's shoulders, wrapping her legs tighter as her pussy was juicing up more and more as he speared into her. And this time, she fully accepted it.
For the first time, Emmeline realised exactly why Hestia Jones had chosen Harry Potter's side over the Order.
"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" She kept on screaming. "Why's your fucking cock so perfect? Why are you so powerful? Why! My cunt! Never! Same! Oh my! Merlin fuck!"
"Do you want to cum?" he asked gently, a parent talking to a child.
Did she want to cum? Of course she did. That's what led to this entire thing.
"Yes! Make me cum! Fucking make me cum, Harry!"
"Then accept it."
"I accept it!" She yelled. "I accept it! I love your fucking cock! I LOVE your fucking cock! Please make me cum!"
"So be it."
The moment he said that, something inside her felt ready to explode, and honestly, she thought she might die. It might be so violent.
"Ugh!" Harry groaned, as her nails dug into his arms, her entire body shaking as she realised she was about to erupt.
"Just like that! Just like that! Just like that!" She chanted, her body clenching up. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. "Ugh! FUCK!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, her body trying to shake his cock off violently, an impossible scenario given how it was speared into her, and she could feel the inexorable force of gravity pulling her down upon the tip, as he kept plunging deeper and deeper into her with every thrust.
"Here it comes! Here it comes! Here it comes! Harry! Harry! Harry—UGHHH!"
Her pussy flexed lewdly, a gush of her broiling sex juices squirted out of her cunt violently, arching through the air, and dripping down like rain upon the forest floor. She kept screaming as her pussy kept squirting, like it was trying to make up for all the times it had failed to deliver, like it was determined to unleash all the orgasms she had fingered herself up to, but never ended up gaining, all at once.
"AHHH! SHIT! OH! MY! THIS IS SO GOOD! HARRY! THIS IS! SO! GOOD!"
She kept gushing like a fountain, sprinkling her cum down towards the earth. Harry pulled his cock out of her, and more juices erupted out of her, sliding down her folds. Without thinking, Emmeline released her hold on his waist, and let her legs go free, and for a second, she feared she'd fall down to her death, but nothing happened. Not a single flicker, not the slightest tremor in the power of the spell, nothing. It was like they were standing on an invisible platform, merrily disobeying the power of gravity as it held both of them up without the slightest care in the world.
She was wrong. Power like this deserved to have its own side.
Albus Dumbledore had his.
The Dark Lord had his.
And so would Harry Potter. Incubus Lord.
"Huh," he said, his expression languid. "That was some orgasm. Clearly you've been pent for quite a while."
"Cl— clearly," she panted. What was surprising was that despite her legs feeling like someone had vanished all her bones, she didn't feel the slightest amount of weakness, standing like that.
Magic. Harry Potter's magic was the likely culprit.
"Wow," she said out loud. "How — how are you this powerful, Harry Potter?"
He just gave her a wolfish grin.
"Fine," she said. "Don't tell me. But I have another quandary. The other girls you spend time with — Hestia, that werewolf girl, and Narcissa Malfoy, are you like this with them too?"
"Yes," he said. "Though not every woman I'm with can bear it."
"Can you do it again?"
He arched an eyebrow.
"Well…." she began, still catching her breath, as she spread her legs further. "I mean, you're quite good. Maybe one of the best. But I wonder if that's because of skill, or just some fluke."
"You're still in denial, huh?"
"Not denial," she said quickly. "I just don't trust in flukes. And you are, forgive me, a walking-talking fluke."
More staring.
Emmeline flushed. "It's like this. You survived the killing curse. You defeated the Dark Lord as a one-year-old. All those exploits of yours at Hogwarts, especially the one with the basilisk. And then you became an Incubus. None of them really have any scientific reasons behind them. So I'm inclined to believe that you're either very gifted or just plain lucky. I intend to find which is which."
He looked amused. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"Well…" she said, biting her lip. "If you can bring me to orgasm twice, then we'll know that it isn't just sheer dumb luck but actual skill."
Emmeline scowled at her pathetic self-justification she was doing in order to ask for a round two of mind-bending sex, and by the looks of it, Harry wasn't going to call her out on it.
Like she said before. Very conscientious.
"Well, a second round of experimentation never hurt anyone," he said, cocking his head. "So long as it is in the name of science…."
She draped herself over him, and climbed on his waist and grabbed his neck. And then he began to levitate down towards the ground.
Round Two awaited.
In the meanwhile, Hestia Jones found herself in the company of one Anastasia Greengrass. She was in the kitchen, cooking up Beef Wellington for the main course for dinner, while chatting with her about seemingly inconsequential things and doing her best to wheedle information out of her.
Information about her employer (and lover) Harry Potter.
"Somehow, after everything I've learned about Harry Potter from my Daphne, I can't really picture him sitting with my husband and his friend, signing a shady business deal."
"Shows how much your eldest knows about him, I imagine," said Hestia. Unlike Harry, she wasn't quite forced to act formally at all times. Perks of being a halfblood meant that people assumed you had absolutely no class and didn't expect pureblood formality from you. It helped that the Greengrass matriarch had requested some casual talk between two women, without the protocol in between.
Not very subtle, but better than expected.
"I would normally take offence about that, Miss Jones," she said, her voice stuck at soft overtones, as she began cutting the raw beef into tenderloin. Even more surprising was that she was doing it the muggle way, instead of using a cutting charm. Clearly the woman preferred a personal touch, no doubt a habit from years of creating potions.
"But seeing him deal with my husband does prove your point. I can only imagine how much you had to work hard to explain a third-year passout about business deals after your employment."
Translation — she was asking if Harry Potter was simply dancing on Hestia's machinations, or if he truly had a head for these things.
"Business was, interestingly, a quick study for him," she said, smiling. "His relatives on the muggle side of his family were involved in corporate dealings, or so he tells me. So he has some grounding on the subject."
Anastasia murmured a small 'oh'.
Hestia smiled.
"Please do not mind my curiosity. Harry Potter was known to be an introvert over the past three years. Of course, my husband was quite surprised when he sent that letter, wishing to buy Phyllida from him."
"I bet."
"Still, seeing him deal with someone like my husband, forgive me, but a child —"
"A child?" asked Hestia, frowning. "I assure you, Lady Greengrass. Harry Potter is no child. He picked up wizarding business and customs in the same way and flair with which he took to flying on a broom. Twelve years of living with muggles did not stop him from becoming the youngest seeker of the century."
Amusingly enough, she was telling her the truth, minus a few facts of course, but she already had told her quota of truths for the month and anymore was just bad for business.
"You really expect me to believe that?"
"Unless you'd rather believe he's a simpleton that walked into this household to be scammed into a subpar under-the-table deal that would miraculously save your husband's arse from DMLE prosecution, yes."
Anastasia stilled. "You are… very well informed."
Hestia smiled, fox-like. "I'm his secretary and stewardess. Being informed is part of my job description."
"And despite that, he still came here."
"Why, Lady Greengrass," said Hestia teasingly. "It almost sounds like you fear for my employer's life."
She blinked, taken aback by the sudden bluntness. It took her a moment to regain her composure. Pureblood princess or otherwise, she had nothing on a spy. Damned purebloods! They thought that just being born and managing to draw breath was enough to make them skilled manipulators and politicians. Guess playing the house for too long had made them forget that increased profit often came with its own share of risk.
Anastasia Greengrass, nee Selwyn, was going to learn that the hard way.
"Please do not say such meaningless things to me," the woman said demurely. "I was merely concerned if Mr. Potter was biting off more than he can chew. But, forgive me, but you do not seem to hold my husband in very high regard—"
Hestia snorted.
"Which leaves me wondering why you even allowed Mr. Potter to come here in the first place. Regardless of his position, I imagine he hired you for a reason. You are, after all, older than him, and thus, wiser."
Not really, thought Hestia. If anything, Harry's the one older than me. He's just repeating his life, trying to correct the mistakes that happened before.
"If you're subtly trying to ask why Harry Potter is willing to take part in a subpar deal, then I'm afraid I cannot answer that question, Lady Greengrass."
"It's not really that difficult to imagine why," said the woman. "It's either that he needs Phyllida for a reason so important that even this shady deal is of no consequence to him in the long term. Or he's a fool. And that… young man, does not strike me as a fool."
This one would require a more sophisticated answer. Her research on the Greengrass family painted a massive familial dysfunction, with Broderick Greengrass holding the reins with an iron will. Anastasia Greengrass was a Potions Mistress that had gained her Mastery as an apprentice to Damocles Belby, famous for his invention of the Wolfsbane potion among other things. She had also studied Herbology from Hadrian Whittle, a famous magiphytologist. A woman like that, with all her breath of knowledge and experience, had been shackled to playing housewife to Broderick 'Bulldog' Greengrass, simply because Anatasia was the fifth in line to the Selwyn name, which translated to being little more than a trading tool to establish alliances with lesser, if somewhat prominent families. And the House of Greengrass, while not being that big on wealth, at least on paper, was an Ancient one, and was remarkably well-connected to a great many families on both sides of the political spectrum. Broderick's father Algernon was supposedly a supporter of Grindelwaldian ideology, while Broderick was rumoured to be a Death Eater sympathiser, though nothing was actually proven in court.
"Harry does what he wants, and he seems to want this deal. For now. I respect that."
"Harry, is it?" Anastasia noted, now tendering the mushrooms. "First-name basis with your employer?"
Hestia did a passable job of pretending that it was a slip of the tongue.
The woman smirked. "There is no need to pretend. I am well aware of the fate of muggleborns and halfblood women in our society. I imagine Mr. Potter is probably one of the more decent employers out there."
"He is," Hestia smiled. Technically, Anastasia was correct, but again, she had arrived at the half-right conclusion about the nature of their relationship.
Half-truths and half-lies. Knowing the balance between them was all what being a spy was about.
"Mr. Potter helped me when I was in a tight spot. He hired me, and he pays me well. In return, he enjoys my loyalty."
"I imagine loyalty is not the only thing he enjoys."
"A man like that naturally has many options," Hestia replied in the same alluding way in which the question was posed.
"Miss Jones…" murmured Anastasia. "If I may be so forward, can I ask something that I can trust you to be discreet about?"
"Is it about your daughter's strange reaction?"
"... somewhat related to that, yes," said the woman. The look on her face suggested a mix of acute interest and confusion at the same time. Like she was trying to decipher a mystery. Not for the first time, Hestia wondered how far this woman would have soared if she had been allowed to exercise her talents.
"If you treat my answer in the same vein, I suppose."
The woman smiled. Again, one filled with hesitation.
"You were right earlier," she said, slowly, cautiously, as if weighing every word. "Your employer…. He isn't a child. At least, he doesn't feel like one."
"I imagine that's an upgrade from not 'feeling like Harry Potter at all'."
She flushed. "I apologise for my daughter's scandalous statements," she said, bowing her head for a second. "Daphne is a little… uninhibited, that way, at times. It's a condition we've been struggling to contain for years."
And yet, Hestia mused, that didn't stop her husband from introducing her to Harry like a potential carrot before the donkey.
"You are asking about my employer—"
"Right," said Anastasia. "He… Well, I imagine there is no other way to put it less bluntly, but he does look older for a sixteen-year-old. I have seen pictures of him in the newspaper just a few months ago, and he looks different. Very different."
This time Hestia didn't suppress her grin. "It's a surprise growth spurt in the summer. Quidditch training does do wonders for one's body."
"I imagine it does, but his aura too, feels a bit… off."
"Excuse me?" Hestia narrowed her eyes. Had she sensed something odd about Harry because of the time-travelling? Was that why her daughter—
"It's… how do I put it? It feels a little… mature? Alluring? Dare I say, seductive?"
Ah. Hestia let out a slow exhale. She's talking about his incubus nature. That was a close save.
She put on a bright smile. "Harry Potter is the vanquisher of the Dark Lord, Lady Greengrass. And like he put it during lunch, he killed Salazar Slytherin's thousand-year-old basilisk with the venerated Sword of Gryffindor. Is it not only natural that someone of such stature would also possess similar power?"
"I suppose —"
"And people with great power often have an alluring feel about them. Isn't that why so many flocked to Albus Dumbledore and… the Dark Lord?"
Anastasia's expression went blank.
It made Hestia smile.
"Is that why you're with him, Miss Jones?" She asked, if a little coolly. "Have you… flocked to him?"
"I told you, Lady. Harry Potter found my skills worth his while and hired me. I've yet to hear him complain about it."
Anastasia heaved a sigh. "Can I offer you a small piece of advice?"
Hestia narrowed her eyes. "If offered in good faith, yes."
The woman strode up to him. "I know Potter is up to something. I can feel it. There has to be a reason why he requested my aid tomorrow. So when your employer arrives from Phyllida, tell him this."
All traces of wordplay had vanished from her tone.
"My husband is not a kind man, Hestia Jones. If Harry Potter thinks he's being smart and can prank my husband like his blessed father, then he is up for a rude awakening. If you have any sense, and I know you do, then take that young man away from this place and never come back. That way, he will be safe."
Hestia smiled. It seemed like once again, Harry had hit the jackpot. No doubt, she mused, because of his future knowledge. "In the spirit of reciprocation, might I also offer a little advice?"
This time it was Anastasia's turn to look alert.
Hestia gave her a predatory smile. "Harry is destined for great things. He has done great things. Will do great things. So if you have any sense, and I know you do, then you've seen it. You've felt it. So either get onboard, or be left behind, trapped in your little trophy housewife life."
With that, Hestia spun around and began to walk away, leaving a flabbergasted Anastasia Greengrass behind.