A.N. The usual disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I won't say no if you give me Lily. Also, all characters are adults. Hogwarts started late and all that shit, calculate it yourself. I don't like Maths.
Chapter 1. Botched Plans
Harry steps down onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
This was his sixth year at the beloved school, leaving him with only one more chance to savour its hospitality. He will miss it once he graduates, but there's no need to become morose just yet. He'll reserve that nostalgia for September, when he rides to Hogwarts for the last time.
Presently, he has to find his family in the throng of people. It isn't a difficult task, considering how an island has formed in the crowd to stare at the heroes of the wizarding world—the brave couple who vanquished the Dark Lord Voldemort and saved everyone from his tyranny.
Even more than a decade later, his parents' fame still shines just as brightly as if they had killed the evil bastard only yesterday.
His dad's dark, messy hair gleams in the sunlight, and he looks in his prime, dressed in classy black robes over a fine three-piece suit. He flashes confident smiles at everyone who glances at him, unafraid of their attention and reverent stares. Unlike him, the gorgeous woman at his side—Harry's mum—sports a stoic look, barely managing a small, stiff smile.
Her bright crimson hair is bound in an intricate braid that hangs over her shoulder, and her kind emerald eyes discreetly roam around, searching for him. She is wearing a low-cut red silk dress that hugs her chest and offers a scandalous amount of cleavage, exposing almost half of her large, voluptuous breasts.
Harry stifles an aggrieved sigh.
Many men and boys are ogling her, some inconspicuously, others not. His younger self would have been seething with rage at their boldness if he hadn't been lectured on the unfortunate realities of fame.
His mother is required to look perfect and sensual whenever she leaves the house. If she does not, people may turn on her; they are fickle like that. This is the price she has to pay for being a beautiful female celebrity. And she has gotten used to it, just as he has. They don't like it, but they have accepted the inconvenient lifestyle.
His dad perks up when he catches sight of him, and Harry walks over. Offering a genuine smile, he lets James drag him into his arms.
His dad squeezes him affectionately before pulling back. "How was Hogwarts, son?"
"Same old," he says distractedly, stepping towards his mum.
She embraces him firmly and releases a sigh against his neck, her hot breath stirring his loins. He can sense how tense she is; she really doesn't like putting on a show for the wizarding world. But what else can you do if you're an exceptional beauty and need to remain likeable and revered by the fickle general public?
Harry wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer, breathing in her sweet, intoxicating perfume, feeling her relax in his hug. He smiles, kissing her coiffed hair and running his palm along her spine. He can feel her soft, warm skin beneath it. That's how tight and thin the dress is—it's as if he's touching her directly.
"Let's go home," she says once they separate, her arms still draped over his shoulders while his own rests on her waist, neither flinching as camera flashes surround them, capturing the esteemed Potters.
There's definitely going to be an article about them in The Daily Prophet the next day. It will be something inane—merely a paragraph about how James and Lily Potter came to pick up their son. And yet, it will be on the front page, accompanied by half a dozen pictures of them, most focusing on his mother.
He won't deny that he has punched many of his mates for boasting about using his mother's cut-outs from the newspaper as a masturbation aid. Cunts, all of them.
They move towards the Apparition point and apparate home to Potter Manor.
As soon as they are out of the public eye, his mum heaves an audible sigh and slumps ungainly onto the sofa, drawing a chuckle from his dad.
"It wasn't that bad," his dad says, sitting on her left side.
"You didn't have to wear this slutty outfit and have your bits stared at by degenerates," she scowls, glancing down shamefully at the low neckline that leaves most of her bountiful chest bare.
It's difficult even for Harry to keep his eyes off her bite-worthy tits, and he's far more discreet and tactful in his lust than the general population.
"I can't even move properly in this dress. That's how tight it is," she adds with a pinched expression, spitting the word dress with such vitriol that she looks ready to tear it into pieces, which she just might do, he muses with twitching lips.
He understands what she's saying, though. It really is a provocative dress, designed purely for the male gaze. He didn't miss how many photographers aimed their cameras at her plump buttocks and scandalous neckline.
But she is the Sex Symbol of the Wizarding World, so it's expected. He would call the wizarding world perverse if he didn't know better. Unfortunately, the Muggle world is no different; female celebrities are expected to look seductive and flawless there too. One unflattering picture is all it takes to invite criticism and hate.
His dad just rolls his eyes. "They were just looking, Lils. You're too hot for your own good. All they can do is look. After all, you're only mine."
The lucky bastard suddenly cups her big, shapely mound through the dress and gives it a squeeze, shocking her with his brazen move. Before she can slap his hand away in embarrassment, Harry does it for her, shoving him aside and taking a seat between them.
"Piss off, old man! Keep your dirty fingers off my mum," Harry says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders possessively, mirth clear on his face.
"Too late. How else do you think you were born?" His dad smirks, leaning back against the sofa.
The bastard. That's a low blow.
"I still believe Mum is pure and virgin. I was so awesome that magic materialised itself and gave me a soul and a body. You both didn't do that. She wouldn't allow a dirty mutt like you to touch her," Harry grumbles good-naturedly, rubbing his face against hers as she giggles at their antics, snuggling fondly into his side.
"Why don't we clear it up? Ask her for the truth, you naive little child," his dad says, crossing his arms, brown eyes twinkling as he watches her ease up.
Harry looks down at his smiling mum and tries to hide his amused grin. "Tell him, Mum! Tell him you're mine and not his."
"Of course, darling. I'm only yours. That dirty mutt is delusional if he thinks otherwise," she grins, going along with the teasing, shooting a faux haughty look at his dad.
"Oi! First of all, that wasn't the question. And secondly, who are you calling a dirty mutt? That name is reserved for Sirius." His dad's dramatic protest earns him unimpressed looks.
Ignoring him, Harry stands and picks his mum up in a bridal carry to her growing amusement, one of his hands conveniently resting under her plush butt.
"Piss off, you mutt! Now, I'll go hide this pure goddess where your dirty paws won't ever reach."
"Give my wife back!" His dad complains as Harry walks away, carrying his laughing mum in his arms. It's good to see her back to her usual self.
She shoots his dad a parting wave and clings to him. He takes her to her bedroom and lays her down on her big canopied bed. The overall red-and-gold colour scheme works its cosy magic on her instantly, the remnants of her bad mood vanishing.
"Thank you for saving me, my chivalrous knight." She smiles lovingly, stretching her body on the bed with a groan, her arms thrown up as she twists her hips this way and that.
It's good that he's so in control of his lust; otherwise, his eyes would have definitely latched onto her breasts when they swayed alluringly.
She winces as the sudden noise of tearing fabric interrupts her stretching.
"Seems like you really hated this dress." He snorts, glancing at the side of her thigh where the dress has finally given up on holding her curvy rear inside.
A long tear parts the seam, exposing the pale skin of her hip.
She shrugs and sits up, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed, unconcerned by the flesh she's showing him. Why should she? He's her precious child who would never look at her that way. "Right. It was planned. It absolutely didn't split because the dress was a size smaller."
"You did look really beautiful in that dress, actually." He chuckles, leaning over and pecking her on the cheek, wishing he was smooching her mouth or the junction between her legs.
She preens, flopping back on the bed, making her tits shake seductively once again. Sometimes, he wonders if she knows how hard she makes it for him to act normal. The fleeting urge to grab her knockers and squeeze them within his fists is overwhelming.
"Thank you, love. Your compliment does boost my ego."
"You're too easy to please, Mum. I'll go check on Dad so you can change into something comfy," he says with an eye roll and prepares to head back.
"Wait! Come here and give me one more kiss." She stops him with a cute begging look and opens her arms in invitation, unwittingly offering him a mindblowing view of her barely-covered breasts. If she thinks an adult acting like a clingy child is effective, she is very right.
He shrugs and climbs over the bed, over her horizontal body. His knees rest on either side of her juicy thighs and his hands grip the bed sheet near her shoulders, while his face hovers over hers. He leans down and brushes his lips on her cheek and nudges her face, but before he can move away, she coils her arms around his back and her legs around his waist like a koala.
She promptly pulls him down, forcing him to lie atop her.
His face is in the crook of her pale neck. And his chest is flush against her big soft breasts, while his crotch presses over her groin. Fuck, he wants to devour her right now.
"I missed you," she mumbles into his ear, curling her fingers into his black hair, cradling his head against the side of her neck.
This is undoubtedly a very sexual position. He can almost feel the swell of her pussy under his semi-hard cock. And the way her tits are mashed beneath his chest makes his blood roar and rush south.
But his mum is blissfully unaware. For her, he's just her innocent son with whom she could cuddle in any way possible and not deem it sexual.
He loves that attitude. It gives him small opportunities to act on his lust for her without gaining her negative attention.
He kisses her neck roughly and playfully, bordering on inappropriate, and she just giggles, thinking it a mere joke. She pulls his head up by the jaw and offers him a wide lovely smile.
"I missed you too," he says and presses his mouth over her cheek.
"Mmm." Her smile grows bigger as he starts kissing her all over the face.
Her perfect chin. Her perfect cheekbones. Her perfect forehead. Her perfect nose. Her perfect eyebrows. Her perfect earlobes.
Everywhere.
She doesn't stop him even when he presses his lips over her mouth for more than a few seconds. Instead, she puckers her lips and kisses him back.
Her soft smooth lips fit against his, and a tingle of pleasure shoots up his spine. They partake in a gentle kiss, moving their mouths over one another slowly—languidly.
It's not a passionate kiss between lovers, he's sure, but neither is it a peck between a mother and son. It's somewhere in between, crossing past the boundary of appropriateness just a little.
Before he can get excited and grow a throbbing boner, which will definitely break this moment of innocent love, he tries to sit up and disengage. But her legs are still closed around his waist, keeping him a prisoner in her hold.
He lightly spanks her butt, revelling in the brief moment where his palm struck her plump bottom. "I think that's enough for now. Or I might be tempted to ignore everything and lay with you in bed for the entire day."
She grins mischievously and uncrosses her legs, letting them fall back on the bed, freeing him. "I wouldn't mind that. But I do have to get out of this dress and into something comfortable."
"Well, I'll leave you to get dressed. I have to talk with dad anyway," he says, planting one last kiss on her lips and climbing off the bed.
"Right. Also ask him about our holiday plans. He has been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about it. He might open up to you." She sits up, unzipping the dress at the side from under her arm to all the way to her waist, showing him her side boob.
It seems she isn't wearing a bra. What he wouldn't give to see her bare tits in all their glory, but this isn't the time to get lost into her boner-invoking beauty.
"Consider it done. I'll get it out of dad," he vows, giving her sideboob only a brief glance.
She smiles at him and nods. "Good. Now, leave, so I can tear this dress off my body."
He laughs and leaves the room even when all he wants to do is ogle her while she takes off that dress. He wants to whip out his cock and stroke it as she wildly battles the restrictive garb. He shakes his head and enters the living room where his dad is staring at a letter with a sour look.
"What's with that face?" he asks, sitting beside him and peeking at the letter. It's from the Ministry.
"Looks like I won't be getting a vacation." His dad sighs, folding the letter and pocketing it before Harry can read it.
Harry's face scrunches in displeasure. It's his dad's apologetic visage that stops him from exploding. But he can't help but feel cheated. His dad is always busy with his work. That's why the family rarely ever goes out. This summer was supposed to be different.
"Mum will be mad," he rubs his face, reining in his rage. "She was looking forward to it. I have lost count of the letters she sent me asking where I want to go in summer. Can't you do something?"
It's impossible to remain angry at his dad when he looks that miserable. It wasn't just his mum who wanted a vacation. On the contrary, it's his dad who needs it. He can't remember a time when James Potter wasn't entangled in work. "I can't. Important things are happening in the Ministry. I can't afford to be absent."
"That's a bummer." Harry slips off the sofa, turning to face him. "It's better be me who breaks the news to her. Or you'll spend the month in a hospital."
His dad chuckles wryly. "Always the intermediary. There's no need for it this time. Just because I can't go doesn't mean we have to cancel it. I'll leave it to you to take care of Lily on my behalf. You will need to because you two will be going to a beach. I don't have to tell you why your bikini-clad Mum attracts men like starving beasts."
Harry blinks in disbelief. "We can't go without you."
"You can and will. Go, tell your Mum about the plans." His dad stands up as well, squeezing his shoulder.
"I thought you said I don't have to be the intermediary this time." He is still puzzled, unable to believe that they'll have to leave his dad behind, that they'll enjoy a vacation while he sinks himself into work.
"As if I'm brave enough to tell this to Lily. She'll skin me alive for not coming along. It's good that she can't get mad at you, my dear human shield."
Harry shrugs off his dad's hand. "I'll take a thousand pictures of us relishing the beach so you know what you missed."
"If half of those are Lily in a bikini, I won't mind."
"Ew. Do not picture my Mum like that."
His dad just chortles and walks away. Harry notices that he leaves the house instead of approaching the master bedroom. The coward, forcing Harry to tell his mum about the botched holiday plans.
Taking a deep breath, bracing himself to disappoint his mum, Harry starts for the master bedroom.
~xXxXx~
The Next Day
"This one."
They're in the corridor of an expensive beach-side hotel. The hallways seem never-ending, tiled white with golden accents, and serpentine lamps stick out of the ceiling at regular intervals, providing abundance of light.
"I thought I'd have my own room." Harry walks over to the dark oak door, one of many that lines the wall. Number 1010 is carved into the plaque.
"Since your dad decided to bail out." His mum stops at his side, using the card to unlock the door. "There's no need for an extra room. We can share a bed."
Harry notes her bitter tone. She's still not over it, consumed by anger, disappointed in his dad. Hopefully, that will change as the days pass. It would be an absolute downer if she remains pissy throughout their stay.
"It's alright. I can never say no to sleeping with you." He jokes as they walk inside, closing the door behind them.
"That's why you're my favourite man. I can always count on you. I can always trust you to fulfil your promises." She plants a quick kiss on his cheek before walking over to the other side, opening the double doors that take up most of the wall, ignoring his innuendo to rant about his dad.
Her sudden delighted gasp makes him grow hopeful, as he watches her admire the balcony. It's not impossible for her to drop her grudge and enjoy herself.
Their suite is magnificent. A king-sized bed takes up the right wall, with well-furnished drawers on either side. The left half of the room is more spacious, containing a walk-in wardrobe, a vanity, and a desk. A white door leads to a luxurious bathroom, boasting a large shower and a ceramic bathtub. He takes off his shoes and socks near the door, where his mum has discarded her sandals, and makes his way to the balcony. Every inch of the floor is carpeted with a thick maroon rug. Usually, rugs aren't meant to cover the entire floor, but this one does.
The sun feels hot on his face as he steps out, and a chilly breeze carries over the scent of the sea. The balcony is roomy enough to hold a couple of recliners, and it's bordered by artistic white balustrades, of mermaids holding up blocks of stone.
His mum is leaning with her elbows on the parapet, her back to him.
She's wearing a flowy white summer dress. It's only snug at her waist from where it flows to her ankles in a long skirt. The light dress flutters with the wind, just like her unbound crimson hair.
He's of two minds. He wants to hug her from behind and press close to her body. But he also wants to stand beside her and catch the awed face she must be making. Their room is on the tenth floor, and before them is a scenic view of the blue shore meeting the white sands. Anyone would be amazed.
Moving to her side, he places his arm around her waist and glances at her pretty face. Her red lips are upturned in a small satisfied smile, and her emerald eyes are wide with wonder. He tugs her closer and lets her rest her head on his shoulder, as they soak in the view together.
"This is beautiful. Just… beautiful," she murmurs.
"If we unpack fast enough, we can play at the beach. I don't want to waste a single day." He rubs a lazy circle at her back.
"Your poor dad is going to regret it so much."
Her rueful voice steals the smile from his face. It seems she's past her anger phase and she can feel sorry for his dad. "He wouldn't want us to mope around and waste this expensive trip."
"You're right. We better set our things quickly and go to the beach." She scampers back into the room, dispelling the Shrinking Charm on their suitcase, sorting things out.
It takes them an hour to stuff the wardrobe with their clothes, to choose their attires for the near future. As soon as they're done, Harry changes into swim trunks and sturdy sandals.
"Please tell me you're wearing your swimsuit underneath." He plops at the edge of the bed, glancing at the wall clock. It's only 9:00 in the morning, but they don't have much time. After 11:00, it will get hotter than they'd prefer.
In lieu of reply, his mum starts unbuttoning the white summer dress right in front of him. Usually, he'd avert his eyes, but since he assumes she has her bikini on, he can keep watching. The flowy summer dress drops at her feet as soon as the last button is undone, revealing what's beneath.
His mum has opted for a black two piece. The bikini top has larger cups, allowing her voluptuous tits to fill them up and give her a dreamy hourglass look. Her bottom, on the other hand, is typical, hiding what's important but not trying to encroach the expanse of her rounded cheeks. As she raises her arms to tie up her hair in a ponytail, his eyes record the jiggle of her breasts, filing the memory to be used later in the bathroom.
She puts a wispy wraparound over her bikini bottom, hiding the goods from his eyes. Though hide isn't really correct here. The wraparound is white and translucent, and since her bikini is black, it's easily visible. As she slips into her sandals and opens the door, she hesitates and looks at him over her shoulder. "Harry, I need you to do something."
"You can have my soul."
Her lips twitch and she shakes her head. "Tempting. But no, I want you to act… possessive and touchy. Once we are on the beach, I want you to act like my boyfriend. Anyone who sees us should instantly think that we are a loving couple. That should reduce the number of wannabe studs approaching me. I know it's weird but I don't want to deal with manchilds who can't take a no. Will you do it? Please?"
Will he use this opportunity to its fullest? Yes! Is this a dream or something? He didn't expect his own mum to offer herself to him on the platter. He is getting permission to be handsy with her. That is a dream come true. He never thought such a fantastical day would ever come. But now that it's here, he's speechless. It says a lot about how comfortable she is with him that she can even request such a bizarre thing. He will have to be careful. He doesn't want to break her trust. He doesn't want this sense of comfortableness between them to ever erode. He'd have to make sure not to go overboard. He loves her too much to destroy their bond.
"Never mind, it must be too weird for you." She laughs, attempting to ease the tension, taking his silence as refusal.
Harry closes the distance in three strides and grabs her shoulders, pinning her against the wall, ignoring her gasp, the thin straps of her bikini under his palms. "Lookie here, little girl. If I see you eyeing any lads, I'll spank the piss out of you. Your arse is only mine, savvy?"
She blinks, her gaze brimming with amusement. Wiggling out of his grasp, she pats his head consolingly. "Is this what you imagine possessive means? Oh, you dramatic child. But yes, you got the point. I'm glad you're up for the task, darling. Though do wait until we reach the beach before you get into character."
"It was a good attempt." He gathers their supplies and slips out of the room, letting her lock it.
"Sure it was." She pats his head again before grabbing his arms and steering him towards the lift.
Harry is looking forward to acting the part of her boyfriend. In moderation, of course. He won't let lust mar their love.
~xXxXx~
In the Ministry, powerful figures from every department are sequestered in a room. They're here to discuss muti—revolution.
For more than a decade, after the death of Voldemort, the Ministry has been ruled by Cornellius Fudge. The common citizens are happy and satiated, but then again, common men can barely see past their noses. The people in the Ministry, on the other hand, have seen the corruption. They've seen the decay that will be left of their country if the status quo prevails.
Hence, why they are all here. They've been talking for years, but for the first time it seems action will finally follow.
"Here's the main problem. If we want to remove Fudge and instate someone with more moral fibre, we will need money. We will need a fucking treasure trove. It's those Neutrals who decide who wins. And Malfoy has stuffed their throats with gold. We can only win if we sway those filthy Neutrals. Do we even have that much money to buy the likes of Greengrass?"
The assembly remains silent. Sullen and chastised.
"I fucking hate this. Waste my time when you lot start shitting gold."
James and Amelia stare glumly as the group breaks away and leaves.
They know they need money to coerce the Neutrals to their side, but none of them can boast a wealth so vast as Malfoy. The Bones and the Potters were never that rich. And all the charity drinks even those funds. James and Lily, after their ordeal with Voldemort, realised how Harry could've been turned into an orphan. So now they also fund orphanages. With all these expenses, the Potters are barely keeping their nose out of the water. They can't fund a change in regime as well.
"We have to do something." Amelia cleans her monocle.
James keeps his silence, his mind a whirl of ideas.
A.N. New fic, yes. I am a little stumped about my gamer fic. So this is a little distraction until I sort things out. This one won't be epic length. I think I can finish it in under 5-10 chapters, we will see. Hope you guys liked it.