Harry walked with his head down, shoulders hunched, cutting through the Ministry's gleaming sex district like a man on a mission he desperately wished he wasn't on.
The Gryffindor section was behind him. He'd made sure of that. The moment he'd entered the district this morning, he'd immediately veered left, away from the familiar red and gold trim that decorated that particular row of shopfronts, away from the chance of running into anyone else he'd shared a dormitory with.
Just another day doing your patriotic duty, Potter.
The Minister's words from this morning were still ringing in his ears. The man had actually summoned Harry to his office first thing, practically glowing with pride as he pumped Harry's hand up and down like he was trying to start a fire.
Potter! Brilliant work! The district reported record foot traffic yesterday! You're exactly the role model wizarding Britain needs!
Harry had stood there, nodding along, thinking about how he'd paid Lavender Brown one knut to squeeze her tits around his cock and then fled the scene with a visible erection. Model citizen indeed.
Your example is inspiring others, the Minister had continued, beaming. We've already seen an uptick in wealthy patrons. The trickle is beginning to... well, trickle! This is exactly what the economy needs!
Harry had made appropriate noises of agreement and escaped as quickly as possible. But the Minister's enthusiasm had made one thing abundantly clear: Harry couldn't just stop coming. The Ministry was watching. Wizarding Britain was watching. His "patriotic duty" was now a matter of public economic policy.
So here he was. Again.
The Slytherin section of the district had a different feel to it. The shopfronts were still polished and Ministry-approved, still bearing the same cheerful purple banners and economic slogans, but there was something cooler about the atmosphere. Less exuberant. The witches here didn't wave and call out to passing customers the way the Gryffindors did. They lounged in their shopfronts with practised indifference, letting their bodies do the advertising.
Harry's plan was simple. Find a shopfront, buy another titjob for a knut, get it over with, go home. No running away this time. No visible erections in the street. Just a calm, professional transaction.
He slowed as he passed a particular shopfront, drawn by something he couldn't quite name.
The witch inside was sitting on a stool behind her counter, reading a book. She hadn't noticed him yet, or if she had, she wasn't making a show of it. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in a soft curtain, framing a face that made Harry's breath catch.
She was beautiful.
Not in the way Lavender was beautiful. Lavender hit you over the head with it, tits practically spilling out, every curve on display and demanding attention. Tracey was the opposite. Her beauty was quiet, the kind you'd walk past and then find yourself thinking about hours later. Her features were delicate, almost fragile-looking, with high cheekbones and a soft jaw and lips that looked like they'd never been kissed hard enough. Her skin was fair, scattered with freckles across her nose and cheeks that made her look younger than she probably was.
Harry found himself cataloguing details without meaning to, his gaze tracing the line of her neck as it disappeared into her simple blouse, noting how her dark hair caught the light of the shop's candles and gleamed with hints of auburn he hadn't noticed at first. Her eyes, when she finally looked up from her book, were a warm brown that reminded him of hot chocolate on cold mornings, and they went wide with genuine surprise when she registered who was standing at her shopfront.
Fuck, Harry thought, she's beautiful.
"Harry Potter?"
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. None of Lavender's squealing excitement, none of the practised enthusiasm he'd expected. Just a quiet, nervous disbelief, as if she couldn't quite process what she was seeing.
Harry blinked, trying to place her. Same year as him. Slytherin. They'd never spoken, not once in six years of sharing a castle, but he vaguely remembered seeing her in the corridors, always walking with Daphne Greengrass, always in the background.
"Tracey," he said, the name coming to him suddenly. "Tracey Davis?"
Her cheeks flushed pink, and something in Harry's chest did an odd little flip at the sight. "You know my name?"
"We were in the same year." He stepped closer to her shopfront, noting how she sat up straighter on her stool, her book forgotten in her lap. "Different houses, but... yeah."
Tracey set her book aside with careful movements, and Harry noticed her hands were trembling slightly. Not from fear, he thought. More like she genuinely couldn't believe he was here and didn't know what to do with herself.
It was oddly endearing.
He found his gaze drifting down as she stood, taking in more details. She was tall, taller than Lavender, with a slim build that her simple blouse and skirt couldn't hide. Her breasts were modest, nothing like Lavender's overflowing cleavage, but they were perky beneath the fabric, their shape clearly visible as she moved. Her legs were long, athletic, and her arse...
Harry forced his eyes back up, feeling heat creep up his neck. Her arse, from what little he could see, looked perfect. Tight and fit and just the right size to grab.
"I, um." Tracey tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture that drew Harry's attention to the delicate curve of her jaw. "I didn't expect... I mean, the girls were saying Harry Potter was in the district yesterday, but I thought..."
She trailed off, biting her lower lip in a way that made Harry's cock stir in his trousers.
Get it together, Potter.
He glanced at her price list, mounted on the outside of her shopfront in the same official Ministry format as all the others. His eyes scanned the options, noting that her prices were even cheaper than Lavender's. Handjob: one knut. Blowjob: two knuts.
Two knuts.
Lavender had charged three for a blowjob. Tracey was selling herself short, literally, pricing her services below even the going rate. The realisation made something uncomfortable twist in Harry's stomach.
He'd planned to buy another titjob. That was the plan. One knut, tits around his cock, quick and done.
But looking at Tracey's nervous face and her too-low prices, spending two knuts suddenly felt like the least he could do. Practically charity, really. Helping the economy.
Keep telling yourself that.
"Blowjob," Harry said, before he could talk himself out of it. "Please."
Tracey's eyes went slightly wider, and that flush on her cheeks deepened. "Oh. Yes, of course. Two knuts."
Harry fished the coins out of his pocket and placed them on her counter. Two tiny bronze discs. Less than the price of a chocolate frog.
Tracey picked them up and tucked them away in a small box, her movements precise and careful. Then she looked at him, and Harry saw something shift in her expression. The nervousness was still there, but underneath it was something else. Determination, maybe. Or anticipation.
"Through here," she said softly, gesturing toward a curtained area behind her counter.
Harry followed her through the curtain and found himself in a small but comfortable space. A plush armchair sat in the corner, surrounded by cushions. Candles floated near the ceiling, casting warm, flickering light. It was nothing special, but it was clean and private and somehow exactly what he'd expected from her.
"Sit," Tracey said, nodding toward the chair. "Please."
Harry sat.
His cock was already half-hard, had been since he'd first noticed how pretty her face was, and it stiffened further as Tracey approached. She moved differently now, more purposefully, her earlier nervousness giving way to something that looked almost like quiet excitement.
She knelt between his spread thighs, and Harry's breath caught at the sight of her. Those warm brown eyes looking up at him. Those soft lips. Those cute freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. She was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt.
"I've never..." She paused, seeming to catch herself. "I mean, I've done this before, obviously, but I never thought I'd be doing it for you."
Her fingers found his belt, working it open with practised movements, and Harry felt his cock throb against his trousers.
"Is that good or bad?" he asked, his voice coming out rougher than he'd intended.
Tracey looked up at him, and the expression on her face made his chest tight. "Good," she whispered. "Definitely good."
She undid his trousers and tugged them down, and Harry's cock sprang free.
He heard her sharp intake of breath, watched her eyes go wide again as she stared at his erection. His cock stood thick and hard, jutting up toward his stomach, the head already flushed and leaking slightly.
"Oh," Tracey breathed, and the single syllable was loaded with genuine awe. "Oh, that's... that's big."
Harry didn't know what to say to that. His cock twitched under her gaze, another bead of pre-cum welling at the tip.
Tracey reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around his shaft, and the touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through him. Her hand was soft and warm, her grip gentle but sure, and she stroked him experimentally, watching his cock respond with something like fascination.
"You're beautiful," she murmured, so quietly Harry almost didn't catch it.
Before he could respond, she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
The heat hit him first. Wet and warm and perfect, her lips stretching around his girth as she took the head of his cock past them. She sucked gently, her tongue pressing against his tip, and Harry's hips jerked involuntarily.
Fuck.
She took him deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her head bobbing slowly as she worked more of his length into her mouth. There was no theatre to it, no exaggerated moaning or sideways glances meant to sell him on upgrading to something more expensive. Just Tracey, on her knees, genuinely focused on sucking his cock.
And she was good at it.
Harry's hands gripped the arms of the chair as she found her rhythm. Her mouth was warm and slick and sinfully soft, her technique somewhere between eager and reverent, like she was savouring him rather than just getting him off. Her tongue swirled around his shaft with each stroke, pressing into the sensitive spots below his head, and every time she pulled back she'd suck harder, creating a pressure that made his toes curl.
"Merlin," Harry groaned, his head falling back against the chair. "That's..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. Tracey had taken him deeper, her lips sliding down his shaft until he felt himself pressing against the back of her throat, and the sensation wiped every coherent thought from his brain.
She held him there for a moment, her throat working around him, and Harry had to actively fight the urge to thrust. Then she pulled back, gasping slightly, a strand of saliva connecting her lips to his cock.
"Sorry," she whispered, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. "I just... I wanted to try..."
"Don't apologise," Harry managed. "That was incredible."
Tracey smiled, a small, pleased thing that transformed her whole face, and then she took him in her mouth again.
This time there was more confidence in her movements. She bobbed her head faster, taking more of his length with each stroke, her hand wrapping around the base of his cock to work what wouldn't fit in her mouth. The combination was devastating. Her lips and tongue working his head, her fingers stroking his shaft, her other hand coming up to cup his balls with gentle pressure.
Harry watched her through half-lidded eyes, his chest heaving with each breath. She was so fucking beautiful like this. Her dark hair falling around her face as she moved. Her lips stretched around his cock, pink and perfect. Her cheeks hollowing with each suck. Her brown eyes, when she glanced up at him, filled with something that looked like genuine joy.
She likes this, Harry realised with sudden clarity. She actually likes doing this.
Not because he was paying her. Not because she was trying to upsell him. She was enjoying sucking his cock, and getting to suck Harry Potter's cock specifically seemed to mean something to her. The nervousness he'd seen earlier made sense now. She hadn't been reluctant. She'd been starstruck.
The realisation made something twist in his chest, and his cock throbbed harder in her mouth.
Tracey moaned softly around him, a genuine sound of pleasure that vibrated through his shaft and made him groan in response. She pulled back to catch her breath, her hand never stopping its steady stroking, and looked up at him with those beautiful brown eyes.
"You're so big," she said, her voice slightly hoarse, her lips swollen from use. "I've never... no one's ever filled my mouth like this."
She licked the tip of his cock, slow and deliberate, catching the pre-cum that had pooled there. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tasted him, and the quiet little hum she made sent a vibration straight through his shaft that nearly buckled his knees.
"I hope it's okay," she continued, her breath warm against his wet shaft. "I know I'm not... I'm not like the other girls. Not as experienced, maybe. But I want to make you feel good."
"You're doing great," Harry said, his voice strangled. "More than great. You're amazing."
That smile again, small and pleased, and then her mouth was back on him.
She took him deeper this time, pushing herself, and Harry felt his cock press into her throat again. She gagged slightly but didn't pull back, her throat working around him as she fought her reflexes, her eyes watering but determined.
She's trying so hard to please me.
The thought sent a wave of arousal crashing through him, and Harry's hands moved without his permission, tangling in her soft dark hair. He wasn't guiding her, wasn't trying to set the pace. He just needed something to hold on to as she sucked his cock with increasing enthusiasm.
Tracey responded to his touch by redoubling her efforts. Her head bobbed faster, her mouth working him with wet, hungry sounds that filled the small room. Slick and obscene and enough to make him lose his mind. Her throat opened for him again and again, taking him deeper each time, and Harry could feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine.
"Tracey," he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair. "Fuck, Tracey, I'm close."
She looked up at him.
Their eyes met.
Her brown eyes, gorgeous and warm and filled with genuine joy. A desire to please him that had nothing to do with the two knuts he'd paid. Her lips stretched around his cock, her cheeks flushed, her freckles standing out against her pink skin. She looked like she was exactly where she wanted to be.
Lavender had moaned her sales pitches, stuck her arse in the air, wrapped her tits around his cock. None of it had come close to the way Tracey was looking at him right now.
"Cum for me," Tracey whispered, pulling back just enough to speak, her breath hot against his wet cock. "Please, Harry. I want to taste you."
Harry came.
The orgasm tore through him with devastating force, white-hot pleasure exploding outward from his core. His cock pulsed, thick ropes of cum shooting into Tracey's waiting mouth, and she took it all. She sucked him through it, her lips sealed around his shaft, her throat working as she swallowed everything he gave her.
And she moaned while she did it. Soft, genuine sounds of pleasure, like his cum was the best thing she'd ever tasted.
Harry's hips jerked and twitched as the last spurts left him, his fingers still tangled in Tracey's hair, his whole body trembling with aftershocks. She kept sucking gently, easing him down, her tongue lapping at his softening cock to catch every last drop.
When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and pink and glistening. She looked up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, and she smiled.
"Was that okay?"
Harry stared at her, his brain struggling to form coherent thoughts. "Okay" didn't begin to cover it. That had been one of the best blowjobs of his life, and she was asking if it was okay.
"That was incredible," he said, his voice rough. "You're incredible."
Tracey's smile widened, and that flush on her cheeks deepened. She looked genuinely pleased, like his approval meant more to her than the two knuts he'd paid.
The realisation made something uncomfortable settle in Harry's chest.
She tucked his cock back into his trousers with careful hands, doing up his belt with the same practised movements she'd used to undo it. Then she stood, brushing off her knees, and offered him a hand up from the chair.
Harry took it, rising on slightly unsteady legs.
"You can come back anytime," Tracey said softly, not meeting his eyes. "I mean, if you want to. No pressure or anything. I just..."
She trailed off, biting her lip again, and Harry felt that uncomfortable feeling in his chest intensify.
"I'd like that," he heard himself say.
Tracey looked up at him, and the hope in her expression made his heart clench. "Really?"
"Really."
He made his way out of the curtained area, back through her shopfront, into the cool air of the district. He wasn't running this time. He was walking, calm and steady, his legs only slightly shaky from the orgasm that was still tingling through his system.
But somehow, he felt worse than he had after Lavender.
He'd paid Tracey Davis two knuts. Two bronze coins worth less than nothing. And she'd sucked his cock like it was an honour, swallowed his cum like it was a gift, and thanked him for the privilege.
What the fuck is wrong with this place?