(I am working on how to publish more of Lily Luna's Naught Friends, in the meantime I thought it would be easier to release some of this!)
"I can't believe this is happening."
Daphne Greengrass sat rigid in Harry's lap, her spine ramrod straight, her jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. The firelight from the dying embers cast flickering shadows across her face, illuminating the flush creeping up her neck as Harry's hands settled on her hips.
"You know," Harry said, his voice lazy and amused, "you don't have to do this."
Daphne's head whipped around so fast her blonde hair nearly smacked him in the face. "Excuse me?"
"I said you don't have to do this." Harry shrugged, the movement shifting her weight in his lap. "I'm not going to force you. If you want to walk out of here right now, the portrait hole is right there."
For a moment, genuine shock flickered across Daphne's aristocratic features. Then it hardened into something closer to outrage.
"I lost the bet," she said, as if explaining something to a particularly dim child. "I honour my debts, Potter. That's what separates people like me from... well, from people like you."
Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. "People like me? I'm fairly certain I'm the one who won."
"That's not the point!" Daphne squirmed in his lap, trying to put some distance between them without actually standing up. It was a futile effort. "If I don't honour my debts, word gets around. Nobody makes deals with a witch who doesn't follow through. My reputation—"
"Your reputation," Harry cut in, sliding one hand from her hip to rest on her stomach, just above the waistband of her skirt, "is going to be so much better after everyone finds out you spent the night in the Gryffindor common room as my personal toy?"
Daphne opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Harry took the opportunity to slip his hand under her shirt.
The noise she made was somewhere between a gasp and a squeak, and watching the infamous Ice Queen of Slytherin lose her composure was almost as satisfying as the feel of her soft skin beneath his palm. He traced lazy circles on her stomach, feeling the muscles jump and twitch under his touch.
"That's—you can't just—"
"Can't I?" Harry's hand crept higher. "You're the one who showed up at my common room, Greengrass. You're the one who's so worried about her reputation that she'd rather sit in Harry Potter's lap than be seen as someone who doesn't pay her debts." His fingers brushed the underside of her bra. "The mental gymnastics are impressive, really."
Daphne's breath hitched. "It's not mental gymnastics, it's—"
Harry cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her bra, and whatever she'd been about to say dissolved into a soft, startled moan.
Fuck, Harry thought, giving an experimental squeeze. They feel perfect.
He'd wondered, of course. Everyone had wondered about Daphne Greengrass. She moved through the castle like she owned it, radiating the sort of effortless superiority that made lesser witches shrink and lesser wizards stare, her body always draped in robes that hinted at what lay beneath without ever revealing anything. The Slytherin boys practically tripped over themselves trying to get her attention, and she sailed past them like they didn't exist.
And now she was in his lap, making small, helpless sounds as he palmed her tit.
It had been a year-long bet, made at the start of eighth year when everyone was still raw from the war and desperate for some semblance of normalcy. House Cup, loser does whatever the winner says for one night. Daphne had been so certain Slytherin would win, her smugness practically radiating off her every time they passed in the corridors. A whole year of trash talk, of pointed remarks, of that superior little smile that made Harry want to bend her over the nearest surface and wipe it off her face.
Gryffindor had won. The party had been spectacular, the common room packed with celebrating students until the early hours. Now everyone was in bed, sleeping off the butterbeer, and the room was empty except for the dying fire, the red and gold victory decorations, and Daphne Greengrass squirming in his lap.
"You know what the worst part is?" Daphne's voice was strained, her body arching slightly into his touch despite her best efforts. "I had such plans for you, Potter. Such detailed, elaborate plans."
"Did you now?" Harry found the front clasp of her bra and flicked it open with practiced ease. Daphne gasped as the support fell away, and Harry took full advantage, sliding his hand inside to cup her bare breast.
The weight of it in his palm was exquisite. Soft and full, her skin impossibly smooth, her nipple already pebbling against his fingers. He rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger, and Daphne's hips jerked in his lap.
"I was going to make you beg," she said, the words tumbling out like she couldn't stop them. "I was going to have you on your knees, Potter. Rock hard and desperate while I took my sweet time deciding if you were even worth my attention."
"Mmm." Harry pinched her nipple, just hard enough to make her gasp. "Go on."
"I was going to—fuck... I was going to make you watch while I undressed. Slowly. Piece by piece. And you wouldn't be allowed to touch yourself, wouldn't be allowed to do anything but look while I... while I..."
Harry's other hand had found its way to her other breast, pushing her shirt up as he went. The fabric bunched under her arms, exposing her to the warm air of the common room, and Daphne made a sound that was almost a whimper.
"While you what?" Harry prompted, rolling both nipples now, watching goosebumps rise across her exposed skin.
"While I showed you exactly what you'd be getting," Daphne managed, her voice dropping into something huskier. "My pussy, Potter. I was going to spread myself open and make you look at it, make you see how wet I could get, and then I was going to slowly... so slowly... sink down on your cock."
Harry's cock, which had been steadily hardening since she'd first sat in his lap, gave a very interested twitch.
"You were going to ride me?" he asked, sliding one hand down from her breast to tug at her shirt. "Take this off."
Daphne hesitated for only a moment before pulling the shirt over her head. The bra went with it, and suddenly she was bare from the waist up, her blonde hair tumbling down over her shoulders, her tits on full display in the firelight.
Merlin's fucking beard.
They were perfect. Better than perfect. Full and round and topped with pink nipples that were tight with arousal, rising and falling with each of her quickened breaths. Harry had seen his share of tits over the years, but there was something about Daphne's. Maybe it was the way the firelight played across her pale skin, or maybe it was the way she was unconsciously pushing them toward his hands, her body begging for more contact even as her face tried to maintain some semblance of dignity.
"Yes," Daphne said, her voice slightly breathless as Harry's hands returned to her chest, "I was going to ride you. I was going to take every inch of your cock and squeeze you so tight you'd see stars. And you'd be begging me, Potter. Begging me to let you cum. But I wouldn't, not until I was ready, not until I'd made you... made you... oh, fuck!"
Harry had pinched both nipples simultaneously, hard enough to make her back arch and her hips grind down against his straining erection.
"Keep going," he said, his voice low in her ear. "I want to hear all about what you would have done to me."
Daphne's head fell back against his shoulder. From this angle, Harry could see straight down the length of her body, could watch his own hands kneading her tits, could see the way her stomach trembled with each breath. Her skirt had ridden up, revealing a scandalous amount of pale thigh, and he could just make out the edge of something lacy between her legs.
"I would have ridden you until you couldn't think straight," Daphne said, the words spilling out in a rush. "Until you were thrusting up into me like an animal, until you were calling my name and telling me I was the best you'd ever had. And then... and then I would have made you eat my pussy until I came on your face, and then I would have done it all over again, and—"
"Sounds like you've been thinking about this for a while," Harry observed, one hand leaving her breast to trail down her stomach.
"A whole year," Daphne admitted, then immediately looked like she wanted to swallow the words back.
"A whole year of imagining my cock inside you." Harry's fingers played at the waistband of her skirt. "A whole year of thinking about how good it would feel to have me filling you up. And the whole time, you were so sure you'd be the one in control."
"I was going to be in control," Daphne insisted, but it came out weak and wavering as Harry's hand slipped under her skirt. "I was going to—fuck, Potter, what are you—"
His fingers brushed against lace. Soaked lace. Even through the fabric, he could feel the heat radiating from her core, could feel how wet she was, how much her body was betraying everything her mouth was trying to say.
"You were going to what?" Harry asked, pressing his fingers more firmly against her covered pussy. "Going to be in charge? Going to have me at your mercy?" He rubbed slow circles over her clit through the damp fabric. "Look at you, Greengrass. You're absolutely dripping, and I've barely touched you."
Daphne whimpered. There was no other word for the sound that escaped her throat.
"Stand up," Harry said.
For a moment, she didn't move. Then, with visible reluctance, she pushed herself off his lap and stood on shaky legs, facing the dying fire. The red and gold victory banners hung limply from the walls, a reminder of exactly where she was and why she was here.
"Turn around."
She turned. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her perfect tits rising and falling with each rapid breath. Standing there in nothing but her rumpled skirt and whatever soaked excuse for panties she had on underneath, with the Gryffindor common room spread out behind her, Daphne Greengrass looked like everything Harry had ever fantasised about.
"Take off the skirt."
Daphne's hands trembled as they found the zipper. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the staircase that led to the dormitories, where any number of Gryffindors could come wandering down at any moment.
"Anyone could see," she said, but her hands were already moving.
"I know," Harry replied. "That's part of the fun, isn't it?"
The skirt fell to the floor, and Harry forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing a thong. A tiny, lacy, completely transparent thong that did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that her pussy was positively glistening in the firelight. The fabric was so wet it had turned translucent, clinging to every fold and curve, and Harry could see everything. The swollen lips, the neat strip of blonde hair, the way her thighs pressed together as if trying to hide her arousal.
"Fuck," Harry breathed. "Come here."
Daphne crossed the space between them on unsteady legs. Harry reached out and hooked his fingers in the waistband of her thong, pulling her closer until she was standing between his spread thighs.
"These are ruined," he said conversationally, tugging at the damp fabric. "Absolutely destroyed. And we haven't even started yet."
"We haven't—" Daphne's voice cracked. "Potter, if this isn't starting, then what exactly do you call—"
Harry pulled. The thong tore away like tissue paper, and suddenly Daphne Greengrass was standing naked in the Gryffindor common room, her pussy bare and wet and inches from Harry's face.
She was beautiful. Not just her cunt, though that was exquisite, glistening and practically begging to be touched. All of her. The long, pale legs that seemed to go on forever. The curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the swell of her magnificent tits. The aristocratic face that had sneered at him across classrooms for years, now slack with desire.
"Potter," Daphne whispered, and it came out like a plea.
Harry reached out and traced one finger through her folds.
She practically collapsed. Her hands shot out to grip his shoulders for balance, her knees buckling as even that light touch sent shockwaves through her body. She was so wet that Harry's finger slid through her with no resistance whatsoever, gathering moisture as it went.
"A whole year," Harry mused, circling her entrance without pressing in. "A whole year of thinking about riding my cock, squeezing me with your tight little pussy. And now look at you. Shaking like a leaf because I touched your cunt."
"Shut up," Daphne gasped, but her hips were rocking forward, chasing his finger. "Just... just do something, Potter."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I don't... I can't..." She made a frustrated noise. "Just touch me properly, you insufferable—"
Harry slid two fingers inside her, and Daphne's words dissolved into a long, broken moan.
Merlin, she was tight. Her pussy clenched around his fingers like a vice, hot and wet and almost painfully snug. Harry curled his fingers, searching for that spot, and he knew he'd found it when Daphne's entire body jerked and she let out a cry that echoed off the stone walls.
"Quiet," Harry said, not meaning it at all. "Unless you want the whole tower to hear you."
"More, more, more..." Daphne was beyond words now, her hips rocking against his hand, fucking herself on his fingers with desperate, jerky movements. "Don't stop, don't stop, please don't—"
Harry added a third finger and watched her fall apart.
It was magnificent. The ice queen, the untouchable princess of Slytherin, coming undone on his hand in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. Her head thrown back, her lips parted in a silent moan, her pussy clenching and fluttering around him as she chased her release.
"That's it," Harry encouraged, thumb finding her clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come on, Greengrass. Show me what all that Slytherin pride looks like when it shatters."
Daphne screamed. There was no other word for it. A raw, desperate scream that she barely managed to muffle against her own hand as her orgasm crashed through her, her cunt spasming around Harry's fingers, her whole body shaking with the force of it.
Harry worked her through it, fingers still moving inside her, thumb still circling her clit, drawing out her pleasure until she was whimpering and trying to pull away because it was too much.
"Please," she gasped, "please, I can't—"
Harry withdrew his fingers. They were coated in her arousal, glistening in the firelight, and he made a show of licking them clean while Daphne watched with glazed eyes.
"Tastes like defeat," he said, grinning.
"I hate you," Daphne managed, but her eyes had dropped to his crotch, where his cock was straining painfully against his trousers. "I hate you so much."
"I'm sure you do." Harry reached for his belt. "Get on your knees."
Daphne dropped like her strings had been cut.
She looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as he freed his cock, and the expression on her face when she saw it was worth every bit of the year he'd spent waiting for this moment. Her eyes went wide, her lips parted, and for a long moment she just stared.
"Fuck," she breathed. "That's... that's not..."
"Not what you expected?" Harry wrapped his hand around the base and gave himself a slow stroke. "What was it you said? You were going to sink down on my cock and squeeze me so tight I'd see stars?"
Daphne swallowed hard. "I didn't think you'd be so..."
"Big?" Harry suggested, smirking. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"Insufferable," Daphne corrected, but her eyes hadn't left his cock, and she was unconsciously licking her lips. "Absolutely insufferable."
"Open your mouth."
She did. Her lips parted, pink and wet, and Harry guided the head of his cock to rest against them. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Daphne leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
Fuck, Harry thought eloquently.
Her lips stretched around his girth, her tongue swirling against the underside, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. She was good at this, better than he'd expected, and the sight of the proud Slytherin princess on her knees with his cock in her mouth was almost enough to make him cum right then and there.
"That's it," Harry groaned, one hand tangling in her blonde hair. "Take it deeper."
Daphne's eyes flicked up to meet his, defiance flickering in their depths even as she obeyed. She took him deeper, inch by inch, until her nose was nearly brushing his pelvis and he could feel the back of her throat.
"Merlin's fucking—" Harry's hips jerked involuntarily, and Daphne gagged, pulling back with a gasp. "Sorry. You just feel too fucking good."
"Of course I do," Daphne said, her voice rough. "I'm excellent at everything I do."
"Is that right?" Harry pulled her to her feet by her hair, not roughly, but firmly enough that she had no choice but to comply. "Then let's see if that applies to getting fucked."
He spun her around and bent her over the arm of the sofa before she could object. Her magnificent arse was on full display, her pussy glistening between her thighs, and Harry took a moment to just appreciate the view.
"Potter," Daphne said, her voice muffled against the cushions, "if you're going to fuck me, then fuck me. Stop staring at my—"
Harry slapped her arse. Not hard, just enough to watch her flesh ripple and hear her startled yelp.
"I'll take as long as I want," he said, running his hands over her cheeks, spreading them apart to get a better look at her dripping cunt. "A whole year of you strutting around, acting like you were better than everyone. I think I've earned a good look."
Daphne whimpered into the cushions.
Harry positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her slick folds. She was so wet that he slid through her arousal with no effort, teasing her, not quite pushing in.
"Beg for it," he said.
"Absolutely not."
Harry rubbed the head of his cock over her clit, and Daphne's whole body shuddered.
"Beg for it, Greengrass."
"I will not... I have standards... I don't—"
He pressed in, just the tip, and held there.
Daphne made a strangled noise. Her hips pushed back, trying to take more of him, but Harry gripped her waist and held her in place.
"Beg."
"Potter, I swear to Merlin—"
"Say please."
"Please!" The word burst out of her like it had been ripped from her throat. "Please, Potter, just fuck me already! I need your cock inside me, I've been thinking about it for a year, please just—"
Harry slammed home.
Daphne screamed again, and this time she didn't even try to muffle it. Her cunt stretched around his cock, so tight it made his vision blur, clenching around him like it never wanted to let go. Harry didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled back and thrust again, setting a punishing pace that had her crying out with every stroke.
"This what you wanted?" Harry grunted, watching his cock disappear into her over and over, watching her arse bounce with every thrust. "A whole year of fantasising, and now you've got it. How does it feel?"
"So good!" Daphne wailed. "Fuck, it's so good! Don't stop, please don't stop!"
Harry had no intention of stopping. He fucked her harder, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave bruises, the other reaching around to find her clit. Daphne jerked and spasmed at the added stimulation, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock.
"Come on," Harry encouraged, rubbing her clit in tight circles while he pounded into her. "Come for me again. Let everyone in Gryffindor tower hear what a slut the Slytherin princess really is."
"I'm not a... I'm not..." But whatever denial she was trying to mount dissolved as her second orgasm hit her, even more powerful than the first.
Harry felt it in every fibre of his being. Her cunt clamped down on him like a vice, milking his cock, her whole body shaking and convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She was practically sobbing, gasping out fragments of words, his name, pleas for more, declarations of how good he felt.
Harry didn't slow down. He fucked her through her orgasm, watching her fall apart, feeling her come undone around him. The pressure at the base of his spine was building, his balls tightening, but he wasn't done yet.
He pulled out, ignoring Daphne's desperate whine of protest, and flipped her over so she was on her back on the sofa. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed and tear-streaked, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. She looked utterly debauched.
She looked perfect.
"I want to see your face," Harry said, positioning himself between her spread thighs. "I want to see exactly what happens when I fill you up."
"Fill me... you're going to..." Daphne's eyes widened. "Potter, you can't—"
He thrust back inside her, and whatever objection she'd been about to make died in a moan.
Harry set a slower pace this time, deeper, rolling his hips to hit that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer, her nails digging into his back through his shirt.
"Look at you," Harry said, drinking in the sight of her. "The ice queen herself. Begging for my cock. Coming all over my fingers. And now you're going to take my cum like a good girl, aren't you?"
"Yes," Daphne moaned, all pretence of resistance gone. "Yes, please, I want it, I want you to—"
"Say it."
"Come inside me!" She was practically screaming now. "Fill me up, Potter! I want to feel you, I want—"
Harry's orgasm hit him like a runaway train.
He buried himself to the hilt and came, harder than he'd ever cum in his life, spilling deep inside her. Daphne keened beneath him, her own orgasm triggered by the sensation of his release, her pussy clenching and milking every drop as Harry pumped rope after rope of cum into her waiting cunt.
It seemed to go on forever. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through him, Daphne writhing and moaning beneath him, both of them lost in the overwhelming sensation of release.
When it finally subsided, Harry collapsed on top of her, both of them gasping for breath.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The fire had died to embers, casting the room in deep shadows.
"So," Harry said eventually, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at her. "Still worried about your reputation?"
Daphne stared up at him, her eyes still glazed, her body still trembling with aftershocks. A thin trail of his cum was already leaking out of her, pooling beneath her on the sofa cushions.
"Shut up," she said, but there was no heat in it.
Harry grinned. He had a feeling this wasn't the last time he'd be seeing Daphne Greengrass like this.