Multiversal Cheaters, Hotwives and Cuckolds
Chapter 29: The Voyeur’s Map
Fandom: Harry Potter (AU, characters aged up to start Hogwarts at 18)
Tags: Heartbreak, Cruelty, Cuckolding, Huge Dicks, Size Queen, Teasing, SPH, Voyeurism, Good Ending I Promise
The Triwizard Champions stood as a group in the foyer outside the Great Hall, waiting for the moment to make their grand entrance, and get the Yule Ball officially underway.
What absolute bollocks.
Harry made sure to keep his derisory feelings off his face. Judging by his fellow students’ reactions back in the Gryffindor common room, and even the mood of his fellow champions, it seemed like he was the only one not in the least bit excited for this poxy ball.
Leaning against the wall apart from the others, Harry scanned his fellow competitors. Cedric, upon noticing his gaze, gave him an embarrassed shrug and a roguish grin, looking as handsome as ever in his fitted dress robes. Cho Chang, looking as pretty as ever with her raven hair done up in an intricate bun, was on his arm and offering him a similar, conciliatory look. Her dress took a lot of inspiration from her family's culture with a high collar, fitted silhouette and elaborate embroidery.
It was an eye-catching look for someone he'd often pegged as a tomboy and Quidditch rival, beautiful even, if the entire concept of beauty itself hadn't been redefined by one of the other champions.
Speaking of, Harry's gaze shifted over to the opposite wall where Fleur Delacour was engaged in a hushed conversation with a spaced-out-looking Roger Davis, and looking remarkably frustrated and annoyed by the experience.
While he didn't lose his mind around her like every other bloke seemed to, Harry couldn't deny that she was one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen, her beauty almost having an ethereal quality to it that threatened to captivate you every time your gaze so much as passed over her exquisite form.
As if sensing his attention, her head turned and she regarded him like he was a particularly revolting blast-ended skrewt.
To be fair, that's how she looks at everyone, and it's still somehow an improvement on how she used to look at me…
Despite how sensitive he was to people gormlessly staring at him, Harry found it hard not to do likewise with Fleur. In his defence, it wasn't her sheer beauty that captivated him - though he wasn't wholly immune to her charms - but rather her dress.
If that thing could even be called a dress…
Fleur wore a flowing, backless number that had a single slit running all the way up to her waist, showing off tantalising glimpses of a pale, powerful, ballerina's leg every time she shifted ever so slightly, with the fabric mostly being held together by a thin, glittering silver chain that criss-crossed over her thigh, wrapped around her waist, and continued to criss-cross over her bared back.
If that was all, it wouldn't have been an issue. The dress was stunning, and Fleur looked incredible in it, but that was nothing unusual. However, the longer Harry stared at the fabric of her dress, the more captivated he grew with it - there was something… unnatural about it.
At first, he thought the twinkling motes of light sprinkled over the silky material to be small, glittering diamonds embedded in the fabric - a less campy version of Dumbledore’s robes, designed in a way to emulate the night sky.
The longer he stared however, the more he started to suspect that there was no emulation at play at all. The midnight blue material with its twinkling motes of light didn’t merely seek to draw inspiration from the night sky, it was the night sky - whether it was enchanted to do so like the ceiling of the Great Hall or because that was just a property of the exotic material, he couldn’t say.
I can't even imagine how much that thing cost…
Seeing the way she smirked whenever she caught someone staring like a tit, Harry guessed she was immensely proud of not only having shown up Cho, but likely every other woman that evening too.
Shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs that had formed, Harry frowned when his eyes passed over Krum, the older man dressed in a very militaristic set of dress robes, a shawl of fur thrown over the shoulders of his crimson coat.
Like everyone else, Harry had been excited at the prospect of meeting the genuine superstar, having eagerly watched his jaw-dropping performance at the World Cup over the holidays, despite his team losing.
Unfortunately, the heavy-browed Bulgarian seemed to have it in for him the moment they’d been introduced, shortly after Harry’s name had been surprisingly spat out of the Goblet of Fire. It would have been easy to chalk up the older man’s dislike of him as bitterness at being bested in the first task of the tournament - despite Karkaroff’s blatant and unashamed attempt to manipulate the scores in his school’s favour - but his attitude pre-dated that.
Harry was loath to go there - especially with how his fellow students always cast aspersions regarding his own actions and character, something he was feeling all too harshly, this year - but it was hard to ignore the obvious connection between the school’s dark history and his own…
‘I do not need a silly tournament to prove you are inferior, little man.’
Krum’s words, spoken to him shortly after his stunning victory in the first task, still perplexed him to this day. Harry hadn’t backed down, hadn’t shied away from the challenge, but he still didn’t know what the man was going on about.
And as his gaze flicked over to the older man’s once more, Harry couldn’t deny that his smug smirk was starting to get to him.
Harry had decided to go stag to the Yule ball, his status amongst his peers making finding a date beyond tedious and not worth the effort - especially when he spent every waking hour either trying to keep up with his course work, or training to make sure he didn’t die in this stupid tournament he didn’t sign up for. It wasn’t that he hadn’t put in any effort - there’d been two girls he fancied and tried to ask, and he’d done so immediately upon finding out about the ball.
Naturally, he’d been training when the announcement went out, so when he’d eventually found out a mere day later and immediately made to ask who he wanted to ask, he was shocked to find both were already off the table.
He couldn’t really blame the second girl he’d asked - that had always been a long shot in his opinion, and it wasn’t as if he’d asked her first anyway. The first though? That stung. They were supposed to be best friends, and she hadn’t even waited to see what he’d be doing, despite knowing how tough a time he was having of it.
Harry pushed down the negative feelings that started to surge in his chest with a practised ease. They hadn’t spoken since, and despite feeling the isolation more keenly than ever, Harry’s pride wouldn’t have him crawling back to her no matter how desperately he needed to confide in someone - he knew damn well how she would have reacted had the situations been reversed, and that truly galled him.
A hurried clicking of heels heralded the appearance of a harried Professor McGonagall, who was dressed in an elegant set of velvet, forest green robes. She scanned the gathered group of young adults, frowned when she saw Krum standing alone, then frowned even deeper when she saw him doing the same.
She hurried over to him, gently grabbed his elbow and pulled him aside.
‘Potter, where is your date?! You’re to open the ball with the first dance in ten minutes.’
He tried not to let his aggravation show - it was hard. ‘I’m assuming you’re going to be asking Krum the same then?’
‘Potter, so help me, do not embarrass this esteemed institution -’
Aaaand, there went his temper, already barely holding on by a thread.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he hissed in an incredulous, furious whisper, the raw emotion in those few words enough to even get the strict professor to pull up short. ‘I’m the one at risk of embarrassing this esteemed institution?! Tell me, who are the lackwits who couldn’t even protect the integrity of this tournament? Who, exactly, are the ones who couldn’t even protect an innocent student from being forcibly bound to a magical contract against his will, one that puts his very life at risk?!’
The professor, not one to put up with having her dear headmaster denigrated and disrespected so blatantly in front of her, arched up in outrage. Their furious conversation, though held in hushed, heated whispers, was drawing the attention of the others, but Harry honestly couldn’t give less of a shit.
‘How dare you -!’
‘How dare I?!’ Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. The nerve of this woman. Any semblance of control he might have had over his temper completely shattered, and it was only Hogwarts’ intense, ancient, magical field that stopped the windows from shuddering or the stone vibrating with his anger-fuelled, uncontrolled magic running wild. ‘Not only do I have to deal with everyone making fun of me, deriding me, ostracising me and cheering for my death, not only do I have to deal with constant studying and training so the ones cheering don’t get what they so desperately want, not only do I have to deal with every professor giving me grief because I’m behind on all my assignments… but now I have to deal with you riding my ass because I couldn’t, between all that shite, find a date to a fucking meaningless ball?!’
His tirade had never risen above the level of a furious whisper, but McGonagall had reared back as if struck all the same, clearly not used to having her authority challenged.
Harry didn’t care.
His emerald eyes still flashing with anger and righteous indignation, Harry channelled and tapped into the endless well of fury Sirius always claimed his mother was an expert at wielding.
‘Have you completely taken leave of your senses?!’
A myriad of expressions crossed the elderly professor’s features before common sense won out and she finally settled on resignation and pity - perhaps after realising how tightly he was wound up.
He'd be lying if he said that tirade hadn't felt good and, to be fair, he genuinely appreciated the Professor's ability to take it on the chin.
He'd needed that. He recognised it, and his anger instantly drained out of him, making him feel spent.
‘Harry,’ she began, her mature, experienced voice soothing and understanding, ‘there is a reason I’m, how did you say, riding your ass so hard about this - The ball is part of the magical contract, the champions must open the events with a dance.’
Harry could only gape at her in disbelief.
Are you having a LAUGH?!
Seeing the grim look on the wizened professor’s features, her lips pressed into a thin line, Harry palmed his face and only just managed to hold in a hysterical cackle.
He really didn’t need more rumours spreading that questioned his sanity…
‘Are there any other details about this farce of a tournament you maybe want to divulge before I lose my fucking magic?!’
He was just starting to feel all zen about this clusterfuck too…
McGonagall looked so contrite and embarrassed that she didn’t even think to correct his foul language.
Harry rubbed at his dry, tired eyes under his glasses in an attempt to stifle the brewing migraine. He was fully aware that he now had the undivided attention of the other champions and their dates, but he no longer cared.
And then the final cherry turd was placed on this truly remarkable shit sunday when he saw Hermione, his best friend, descending the nearby stairs and looking absolutely radiant, her hair and face done-up beautifully and dressed in an elegant and flattering dress of periwinkle blue.
In a stunning display of ignorance and self-delusion, Harry briefly entertained the fantasy that she’d only turned him down to surprise him by dramatically turning up as his date at the very last minute.
Such hopes were quickly dashed as a smugly grinning Victor Krum approached his beautiful best friend and held out his arms.
‘You look beautiful, Hermy-own,’ he purred with his deep, Slavic accent, completely butchering her name. Hermione rolled her eyes at the horrific attempt at pronunciation, and while the brunette sought his gaze, she completely missed the smug, evil grin the twat sent his way.
A rage the likes of which he’d never felt before surged within him - and it wasn’t even directed at the cunt who was trying so pathetically hard to get under his skin.
It was only his years of practice at not allowing his relatives to see how much they got to him that prevented his roiling, thunderous emotions from showing on his suddenly blank features.
Hermione, his supposed best-friend, knew how badly he was being ostracised, she knew how hard a time he was having of it. He had no secrets from her, he’d told her about how unpleasant Krum had acted towards him, how much the hulking Slavic brute seemed to have it in for him.
A deep, stifling silence had fallen over the champions, their dates and the professor, each of them tensing as they expected spells to start flying. Hermione was looking around in bewilderment, as if not understanding what was going on.
That, of course, only made him angrier.
Especially after Ron, she should have known how he’d react to betrayal - even if it hadn’t been committed intentionally or with malice.
Instead of bursting out in a furious tirade and spellfire like the others were expecting - and he knew Krum desperately hoped he would - Harry only smiled pleasantly before turning his back on them.
We’re done.
At cutting out yet another person - a supposed best friend and his closest confidant - from his life that year, Harry paradoxically felt lighter and heavier all at once.
He stood straight, shoulders back and looked down at his aged professor with a pleasantly blank expression. ‘It’s just the dance? That’s my only obligation? No other nonsensical provisions that’ll sneakily rob me of my magic?’
Looking like she wanted to say more - perhaps sensing the monumental shift in his life, even if Hermione hadn’t - the professor pressed her lips into an even firmer line before reluctantly nodding.
Sighing, Harry held out his arm to her and offered the mature woman a grin that would have made his godfather proud - his father doubly so, if stories of the man were to be believed. ‘Well then Minnie, you now have the esteemed honour of sharing this first dance with me.’ Harry expertly and with practised ease buried his emotions down deep in his very being before further channelling Sirius. ‘Do try and keep your hands off my bum.’
Despite herself, the corners of the mature woman’s lips twitched in amusement before letting out a fond, weary sigh. ‘Cheeky little shit.’ Her cursing took him so by surprise that he almost let his carefully crafted mask slip. ‘Just like your father.’
‘Mm,’ Harry agreed, having heard that one before. ‘Just wait until Sirius hears about this.’
McGonagall sighed deeper but eventually threaded her arm with his. ‘Yes, I suspect Black will never let me live this down.’
Harry ignored the queer looks he was getting from the other champions and their dates and, when he lined up in the rear with the professor on his arm as they prepared to make their grand entrance, he pointedly didn’t meet Hermione’s inquisitive stare despite how hard she tried to get his attention.
‘It’s not healthy to completely cut yourself off from your support group, Potter.’
Despite himself, Harry snorted in amusement at her wise words, his gaze firmly fixed forward and towards the large doors that opened and revealed the beautifully decorated Great Hall to them.
‘You should tell my support group that.’
-
Naturally, opening the ball by dancing with the aged professor had caused quite the kerfuffle.
His detractors took it as an opportunity to get a few more digs in, while the indifferent just watched on in bewilderment. Harry got over it rather quickly, the near constant state of looming, mortal peril putting such trivialities into perspective.
Harry found it easy to zone out as McGonagall had led him through the dance, his mind focused on the next task. He'd already taught himself to swim - or rather, to not panic in the water - next was a plan of action.
Maybe I can get the Giant Squid on my side? He's always seemed to like me… Would be pretty wicked too…
He couldn’t help the snort of amusement that slipped out as he thought about the oversized cephalopod, ignoring the curious looks the others on the champion’s table sent his way.
Pretty sad that the squid may well have been my best friend this year - at least he never threw me under the bus.
He frowned in consternation, a sudden realisation making him decidedly uncomfortable.
I don’t even know his name, despite how much time he spends hanging out with me by the lake. I’ve been a pretty shitty friend…
He wondered how squid communicated - maybe he could ask the majestic beast?
Hagrid might know…
Naturally, his prolonged introspection had garnered him plenty of bemused looks - especially since he was so blatantly blanking Hermione, who kept trying, and failing, to start up a conversation with him. Naturally, the gossip-mongers would have a field day with that, the frustrated tears that stung the corners of her eyes at his continued abstinence not exactly subtle.
Ameteur move, old girl, never let the vultures see weakness.
Speaking of vultures, he was pretty sure he’d seen Skeeter flitting about the ball too.
Rather than feel sympathetic, Hermione’s frustration had only served to make him angrier - not that he’d ever let that show. When he was struggling to sleep every night, anxiety and helplessness threatening to drive him mad, was it too much to ask for his best friend to have his back?
Or even better, to not plant a big old knife in it?
He found it all the more infuriating given what happened with Greengrass the previous year.
Maybe I shouldn’t have kept that a secret? But friendship shouldn’t be tit-for-tat, I shouldn’t have to explain why what she did was disgusting.
Perhaps he was being childish, maybe even a little selfish - but was it the worst thing in the world to ask for his friends to put him first? Just once?
He was tired of being selfless, or being the hero.
I need to stop thinking about this, otherwise I’ll end up a miserable cunt and they’d have won.
He didn’t know exactly who they pertained to, but he refused to let them win regardless.
Looking for a distraction, he found a new one relatively quickly on the dance floor. Ever since the champion’s had opened the ball and welcomed the other guests to join them on the dancefloor, he was pretty sure Ginny and Neville hadn’t left.
Despite the angry, green beast threatening to claw its way out of his chest at seeing the other girl he very much fancied with another bloke, he couldn’t really begrudge the pudgy boy - even if timidness had prevented him from going against the crowd that year to outwardly support him. He was nowhere near as close to Ginny as he was with - had been - with Hermione and, even though the younger ginger spitfire had a very obvious crush on him, that didn’t mean Harry had any right to expect her to wait forever, content with being the second choice.
Well, not anymore… process of elimination and all that…not that it matters, given the way she’s smiling and dancing with Nev, she might have moved on…
Harry stole several glances throughout the evening of the energetic couple, his gaze lingering on her lithe, athletic frame with hunger. Ginny looked incredible in a dress she must have saved up for for a long time to be able to afford - a burgundy, velvet number that hung off-the-shoulder and had a deep, sweetheart neckline, highlighting her decolletage and pert cleavage. The dress was also well-fitted, showing off her slim figure and wide hips - apparently the only thing she’d inherited from her mother - while she wore her hair loose, styling it so it fell in wavy tresses over one bare shoulder.
Unable to help himself, he kept finding his gaze drifting back to the happily grinning, dancing couple, a spike of jealousy stabbing him in the heart every time he did so. Just as he was thinking that another door had been closed to him forever though, Ginny chose that moment to glance up at the champion’s table, at him. Her smile and pretty blush when she caught him staring filled him with an unexpected surge of hope - her reaction a pleasant surprise for an otherwise unpleasant evening.
His fellow champions, in between their meals, got up and danced as well. It came as no surprise to Harry that nobody came up to ask him to dance or even to talk - even if Cho tried her best to rope him into a couple of conversations.
I must look like a right, miserable cunt.
He found it hard to care, honestly.
Eventually, the bell devolved into a more party-like atmosphere when the lights dimmed and the Weird Sisters - a big get, even for the world-renowned academy - started to perform a set, their stage, a conjured, somehow solid, magical cloud.
They were a big hit with the students.
Realising a golden opportunity when he saw one, Harry took advantage of the dimmed lights and lax focus to make his escape from the festivities - not particularly in a festive mood, himself. As he stalked along the outside edge of the hall and slipped out of a side door, his eyes kept scanning the crowd in the hopes of earning one last glimpse of the beautiful, younger redhead, her burgundy dress and bright orange hair easily standing out amongst the crowd.
However… he couldn’t find her.
Giving the Great Hall one final scan, he noted several conspicuous absentees, Hermione and Krum included.
Harry pursed his lips and slipped out of the Great Hall, a troubled frown on his features, as Krum’s taunting words and victorious smirk echoed in his mind.
He made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, alone.
-
Laying in his bed and having stripped out of his expensive dress robes, Harry wasn’t really surprised to find himself alone in his shared dorm room, despite how much the thought secretly hurt.
Rather than wallow in misery though, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Krum’s smirking, punchable face. The man was an absolute cunt of the highest order, and as he had more time to think on it, he couldn’t dispel the sense of foreboding that threatened to overwhelm him.
He may have all-but cut ties with Hermione… but that didn’t mean he wanted something bad to happen to her…
And he wouldn’t put something bad past Viktor Krum.
What could he do, though? Aside from throwing on his cloak and heading out in the hopes of stumbling on them.
Unbidden, his mind went to the Marauder’s Map, or rather, the little, secret project he and Sirius had worked on over the summer.
His godfather had been pleasantly surprised when Harry had presented the artefact he and his friends had made while at Hogwarts themselves, his fingers running over the deliberately worn parchment reverently.
After regaling him with stories of the mischief they’d gotten up to as a group using that very same map, Harry had tentatively suggested that they could perhaps improve on it together, to turn the otherwise impressive bit of spellwork into a proper scrying artefact.
Harry had always been talented with magic - perhaps a good reason why he’d been able to so readily compete with pureblood witches and wizards several years his senior, without the benefit of any magical study in his teen and pre-teen years like they most likely had. That quickly showed and his godfather had watched on in awe as he wove spell after spell into the Marauder’s Map with Sirius’ help.
It was one of his most treasured memories, one he could easily fuel a thousand Patronuses with, especially when Sirius had reverently compared him to his equally talented mother, whose ability with a wand had supposedly been legendary before her life had been tragically cut short.
Of course, Sirius had ruined the moment by using his ownership of the artefact to rename it the Voyeur’s Map, adding new pass-phrases that were equally degenerate.
Harry laid out the blank, worn parchment on his bed and bounced his leg nervously as he stared at it with a fierce intensity.
He knew it, what he was about to do was wrong, a horrific invasion of privacy - not just of a random person either, of someone he reluctantly admitted to being in love with.
Why else would I be so angry…?
Still, he knew what kind of person Krum was, and he wouldn’t put hurting Hermione past him if it meant getting at Harry. Even if it was only a small chance, would he risk it?
Could he?
‘I solemnly swear I’m up to no good…’
Immediately, the parchment was flooded with magical ink that mapped out the Gryffindor Common Room, not only confirming he was alone in his spelled-shut bed bunker, but that he was unlikely to be disturbed for the foreseeable future.
Why?
Simple, two of his other dorm mates were close by, closer than he’d expected. As he scanned through the girls’ dorm rooms, he found both Seamus and Dean with Parvati and Lavender in their room - Hermione’s room - their icons overlapping with the girls’.
It feels like I’m the only virgin in this bloody castle…
Before he could angst even more over that fact, he gaped as Dean’s icon got up from the bed with Parvati and ambled on over to Lavender’s bed. He paused there, before Seamus’ made the opposite trip, joining Parvati on her bed while Dean settled in with Lavender.
He fought the overwhelming urge to spy on what kind of wicked orgy was going on in there, hurriedly pulling the ever-seeing eye of the Voyeur’s Map away before temptation got the better of him.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely…
Hermione had taught him that line, one he found increasingly more apt the longer he scanned the castle and found couple after couple with their icons overlapping in broom closets, empty classrooms, dorm rooms or even just a quiet, typically shadowed corner.
His ego, which had taken a massive battering at having seen so many of his fellow students having a good, adult time, got a bit of a reprieve at seeing Ron seated by himself in the Great Hall, away from the mass of still-dancing bodies, watching the concert on his own.
At least I’m not the only miserable twat at Hogwarts…
Speaking of and with a growing sense of trepidation, Harry shifted the focus of the map over to the Black Lake, where the massive galleon the Durmstrang students had arrived in had docked. Unlike the students from Beauxbatons, they didn’t take advantage of Hogwarts’ hospitality and instead chose to stay in the magically enlarged rooms aboard their ship.
The Voyeur’s Map showed off its power once more as, on initial inspection, the Durmstrang ship looked incomprehensible, the magically-enlarged nature of its interior causing dozens upon dozens of names to be overlapped with each other and be unreadable.
When its gaze remained focused on the ship for long enough however, the map pierced the veil and instead showed off the ship’s interior, even accounting for how they’d used magic to enlarge most of the rooms. The end result was a floor plan that looked nothing like that of the original ship’s, but one that was infinitely more readable and usable.
As soon as the picture became clear and Harry had a perfect view of the ship’s interior, the bottom fell out of his stomach and he wanted to be sick.
He’d found Hermione.
In a rather large room close to the captain’s cabin - he presumed Karkaroff’s room - he found the woman he’d considered to be his best friend, someone he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was in love with, alone, with Viktor Krum, their icons and names on the map… distressingly close.
This… it could still be against her will. I need to check, I need to make sure she’s safe…
Feeling sick to his stomach, but absolved of any guilt with the flimsiest of excuses, Harry uttered the passphrase Sirius had proposed when they’d updated the map together, his voice dry and cracking with strain.
‘S-show me something naughty…’
He wished he hadn’t. He really wished he hadn’t.
The map glowed a brilliant blue and Harry sat back as a three-dimensional image was projected above it. It wasn’t like he was watching a muggle security camera feed, rather, it was like he was witnessing a memory from within a pensieve, like he was there, able to rotate the image in whichever way he desired, the horrific scene playing out unbidden.
‘Oh yes, yes, yes! Viktor, go slow, you’re so big! Mmnh!’
Harry’s face flushed with rage and shame at hearing Hermione’s joyous cries. In an instant, he’d ascertained that everything between Hermione and Viktor, his enemy, was consensual, but rather than turning off the feed in disgust, he couldn’t look away.
The room was dark and lit only by the light of the nearby fireplace - a big no-no on wooden ships, as far as he knew, but magic and all that. A large bed dominated most of the space, as well as a desk and small area with a magical training dummy, but rather than carry out their tryst atop it, the couple were instead laying down on the nearby rug that covered most of the wooden floor, made from the fur of a magical creature Harry didn’t recognise.
It must have been comfortable, because instead of using the bed, Hermione lay naked - save for a lace bra that had the cups pulled down to expose her heavy, jiggling breasts - and looked anything but inconvenienced.
Her dress and Viktor’s robes had been discarded in a corner, completely forgotten, and they’d clearly been going at it for a while, the firelight causing their sweaty, glistening skin to shine - a testament to their exertions.
With a grunt of annoyance, Krum pulled out and Harry felt emasculated for a second time in as many seconds. Not only had his competitor stolen the woman he had feelings for, he did so with a cock that was more akin to a beater’s bat than anything Harry could claim. He let it fall on Hermione’s belly with a distressing, meaty thwack, the firelight highlighting how his date’s juices already coated him.
‘Sorry,’ Hermione gasped, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes locked on the imposing shaft. ‘I-I was a virgin, this is all so new, and you’re so… so big…’
Each word was like a dagger to the heart, compounded by the proud smirk on the Slavic cunt’s lips.
‘Is okay Hermy-own,’ the brutish twat soothed in a voice filled with such fake tenderness and care that it made Harry sick-er. ‘Ve have all night. Vill make this memorable. Promise.’
Hermione smiled prettily, her blush deepening. She’d been laid out on the floor, her legs spread wide around Krum’s hips as he kneeled on the carpet between them. At his words though, she got up on her hands and knees and eagerly took the massive, imposing shaft in both hands, stroking it in a corkscrew motion and opening wide to stuff it into her mouth.
Krum’s eyes screwed shut and his head tilted back in pleasure, his hands reaching up to grab the bun in Hermione’s hair and eagerly guide her as she bounced up and down his huge cock. She seemed tickled pink at his groans of pleasure and, with a zeal and enthusiasm Harry had witnessed her exhibit countless times in the past, she focused all her attention on mastering a new skill.
Apparently ready to try again, Hermione pulled off his shaft with a gasp and turned around, still on her hands and knees, and presented herself to her lover with a shy smile, waving her plush bum at him from side-to-side as if he needed further enticing.
Both Harry and Krum growled at the same time for different reasons. Krum at the delicious sight, of course, one he eagerly guided his imposing shaft towards, ready to impale his lover once more.
Harry though, he’d growled at the thick rivulet of cum that had started to ooze out of her gaping lips.
Krum sank back into Hermione with a victorious groan, eager to mark his rival’s girl for a second time. Her lips spread distressingly and obscenely wide around the invading member that didn’t stop until half of its length was buried inside her, bottoming out in her tight, no-longer-virgin pussy.
Hermione’s mouth hung open in a silent scream, her eyes wide as she was impaled by the freshly lubed intruder, and when he bottomed out, her entire body shuddered, and she let out a warbling cry as she came. Hard.
‘Libido managed!’ Harry cried out, dispelling the image with a command and, with a wave of his wand, cancelling the charms on his canopy so he could run to the bathroom.
After freshening up, Harry stared at his miserable reflection in the mirror before, with a sneer of utter self-loathing, splashing more water on his face to wash away the still-visible tear stains.
What did I ever do to deserve this…?
He ignored the charmed mirror’s asking about his well-being and stumbled back to his bed, spelling the canopy shut once more for a completely different reason.
He wanted to be alone. It was better to be alone…
They can only hurt me if I let them…
It was a phrase, a mantra he had repeated countless times to himself growing up with his relatives. For a time, ever since his introduction into the magical world, he’d thought he could retire it.
He thought wrong.
Harry repeated the mantra over and over in his mind until his heart-beat stopped pounding in his ears and his breathing settled down.
Get over yourself, Potter. You’re not the only person who’s had their heart broken before.
Still, he could admit it was especially galling given the events of the previous year.
We’re done. I’ll never let Hermione hurt me like that again. If anything, Krum did me a favour - we weren’t even dating, not yet…
Shifting around in his bed, he started when he felt the parchment brush against his bare foot.
Oh right, I didn’t put it away…
He’d reached out to the map and was about to start folding it, but his hand froze, a stray, insidious thought occurring to him unbidden.
Ginny and Nev were having such a good time… why’d they leave early?
The thought repeated itself over and over in his mind. He didn’t see either name in his quick perusal of the Common Room and school grounds earlier… where could they be?
Harry knew he’d be crossing a line. There was no justification for sating his curiosity this time - though weak-willed, Neville was a sweetheart, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Heck, he all-but cries when he has to kill a plant…
He frowned as his eyes stared holes into the blank parchment. Was he emotionally vulnerable? Yes. Was that an excuse for what he was about to do? No, it definitely wasn’t.
He was about to start folding the parchment again before gritting his teeth in anger.
What has doing right by people ever done for me? Can’t I be a selfish prick? Just once?!
With a grunt of annoyance, Harry reactivated the map and started scanning the entire castle. He didn’t find his targets until he searched the astronomy tower, near the Ravenclaw Common Room.
He’d heard Seamus and Dean talk about the storage rooms in the astronomy tower before, particularly in reference to where to bring a girl if one wanted to shag. Given how close the divination classrooms were, the nearby storage rooms were always filled with the plush, comfortable pillows students were asked to sit on when communing with their inner eye, or whatever.
Harry would have to take their word for it, he didn’t take divination as a class.
He found both Nev and Gin in one of said storage rooms, their names overlapping like so many others around the castle that evening.
Apparently Christmas makes everyone horny…?
His gaze remained fixed on the two names as his hands started to shake. He couldn’t believe he was considering this, but the idiotic passphrase was on the tip of his tongue, his cock growing achingly hard in his pants.
This wasn’t like with Hermione, there was no sense of dread even though the green beast was roaring like a caged animal in his chest. Ginny didn’t owe him anything, even if she had a not-so-secret crush on him. She was just a pretty girl he very much fancied… one that was apparently getting hot and steamy with her date for the evening.
Fuck it.
Licking his suddenly dry lips, he whispered the phrase, his voice hoarse as he ignored his conscious screaming at him that this was wrong.
It was, but his leg bounced with perverse excitement regardless as the image solidified over the map before him.
It was the sounds that caught his attention first, as the image slowly came into focus. Wet slurping, similar to when Hermione had been slobbering all over Krum’s huge cock.
It turned out to be a shockingly apt comparison.
As the three-dimensional image solidified over the glowing map, Harry barely noticed the dark, dingy surroundings, or the mountain of pillows Ginny was kneeling on - he only had eyes for her pretty, pale features, her lips spread obscenely wide around Nev’s shockingly thick girth as she bounced her head up and down his cock, her hands stroking what she couldn’t stuff in her pretty mouth.
Jesus Christ… I really am the only virgin at Hogwarts…
Even more distressing was the sight of Neville’s cock. Harry had never felt self-conscious about his own five-inch member, but seeing first Viktor’s ridiculous manhood, then Neville’s only slightly less imposing endowment, penetrating the women he fancied, did a number on his ego.
Unlike seeing Hermione however, watching Ginny eagerly bouncing on Nev’s fat cock caused his own far less impressive endowment to throb with need. He didn’t feel sick at the sight, rather, he had a sudden urge to pull out his own cock and have a wank.
When Ginny pulled off Nev’s big cock with a gasp and a pretty smile that had the green beast roaring once more, Harry did just that, the sight of her perky, pale tits and pretty, erect, pink nipples too tempting to resist. Somehow, seeing her beautiful smile juxtaposed with her pale hands stroking Neville’s dick was so naughty that he couldn’t help but be insanely turned on.
As Gin bit her lip and gazed up cheekily at a furiously blushing Neville, Harry made himself comfortable, dropping his sleeping trousers and pants before slowly stroking his angrily throbbing cock.
‘See Nev? No girl will care if you finish quickly if you can get hard just as quickly… hard and so, so big…’
When Neville buried his furiously blushing face in his hands and groaned at Ginny’s embarrassing, praising words, the ginger spitfire cackled madly before pulling him down onto the cushions with her.
‘Your reactions are so cute,’ Ginny purred directly into his ear, before gripping the back of his head and forcing his lips against her own cum-stained ones. Even if Neville wanted to protest, Ginny wasn’t giving him the opportunity to, her animalistic groan swallowed by her chubby lover. When she pulled back, her dark eyes were alight and twinkling with desire, smouldering with passion as she once more gazed down at Nev’s rather unexpected endowment, unable to believe her good fortune.
Unlike Krum, Neville just looked happy to be along for the ride while Ginny looked like a dragon who’d had a butchered herd of mooncalf dropped in front of it.
‘Y-you’re very p-pretty G-ginny… S-so beautiful…’
Rather than melt into a puddle of goo at Nev’s adorable attempt at being suave, her smile only widened and a look of raw, animalistic hunger crossed her beautiful features.
‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard, luv, come on, lie down…’
Nev shuddered at Gin’s words, his cheeks flushing a brilliant crimson as he shook with excitement and did as asked, his cock pointing straight up like a towering tribute to his unexpected masculinity.
Neville didn't know where to look, his gaze bouncing between Ginny's pretty face, her pert, pale breasts, her flat stomach, toned thighs and, when she threw a leg over his splayed legs and made to straddle him, her glistening, pink pussy. It was clearly a lot for the normally shy young man to handle, his breathing starting to come in ragged pants as his excitement peaked.
Ginny, on the other hand, only had eyes for Neville's cock. There was a hunger in her eyes that Harry had only seen before in quidditch training, typically during each season's tryouts when she lined up against him and tried to beat him to the snitch.
He remembered the looks in her eyes on each of those occasions, and remembered finding her determination incredibly attractive.
Those looks paled in comparison to the one she was giving Neville's surprisingly huge cock. There was a raw hunger there, a desire to devour and conquer the immense shaft before it.
It was incredibly sexy, and Harry found himself shamefully wanking his less imposing endowment as he perversely watched the gorgeous redhead grind her glistening lips against the mighty phallus.
‘Nev, luv, deep breaths,’ Ginny cooed, her voice thick with mirth as she looked down at her lover. She didn't stop grinding though, even if she was on the verge of hysterical laughter at Neville's near panic attack. ‘Just think of your old nan or something, think unsexy thoughts…’
He struggled mightily, cringing at the mention of his domineering grandmother, before slowly opening his eyes and giving Ginny his most courageous, baleful stare.
‘T-that’s easy f-for you to say, y-you’re not seeing what I am…’
Ginny’s wide smile split her face, seemingly lighting up the otherwise dark room.
‘Aww, you're sweet, but…’ Biting her lip to stifle a giggle, Ginny reached down and gripped Nev’s wrists, pulling his hands up so that he was cupping her pretty, perky tits. ‘You need to get over this real quick, otherwise I'm not gonna have any time to really appreciate this big boy…’
Nev shuddered at her sexily purred words, his eyes wide and starting at his hands that tentatively squeezed and groped Ginny's tits.
‘Mmm, yes, that's it luv, just like that, pinch my nips, mhmm, good boy…’
Back at the Dursleys’, Harry had several times stumbled on his cousin's porno mags and VHS tapes. At the time, after having a sneaky peek and watch, he'd thought they were brilliant.
Years later, he couldn't believe how wrong he was. The pictures in the magazines had been stationary and boring, while the video on the TV had been blurry and undefined. Compared to this? Compared to having a perfect, three-dimensional image projected above his prone form…?
What he'd seen at his relatives’ place had been rubbish by comparison. Of course, the experience was heightened even more because he actually fancied Ginny, she was real and somewhere in the castle, at this very moment, she was naked, and grinding atop another bloke while gently coaching him so he didn't cum too quickly.
Her personality, her demeanor was almost as sexy as her naked body, or the sight of her pretty pink lips sliding up and down Nev's thick, angry, veiny shaft.
They slowly grinded and whispered sweet nothings to each other for another ten minutes, until Neville got used to having a beautiful, naked woman straddling him and didn't look like he'd immediately finish on the spot if she so much as looked at him funny.
‘Close your eyes,’ Ginny whispered huskily, her own voice laboured and straining with effort. As much as it was a task to calm Neville down enough that they'd both enjoy themselves, Harry figured it had to be equally hard on Gin in holding herself back for so long. She hadn't quite stopped staring at Neville's ridiculous endowment the entire time, licking her lips in anticipation for what was to come.
With a final, deep breath, Neville did as instructed and Ginny purred with delight before standing as tall as possible on her knees. Despite stretching to her max, she wasn't quite able to get over Nev’s huge, towering cock, so she shuffled forward a little and angled his crown so it was kissing her pink lips.
Neville shuddered powerfully at the feeling, but when his eyes started to flutter open, Gin covered them with her hand, shushing him and demanding that he keep them shut.
With the hand that wasn't covering Nev’s eyes, Gin gripped his cock just under the head, her slim, delicate fingers unable to wrap all the way around his girth, before slowly moving back and guiding him in.
Harry spun the image around, his stroking growing more intense, as he watched Ginny's perfect, pink lips spread obscenely wide around Neville's crown the way he'd seen Hermione's do likewise, not so long ago.
Unlike that heartbreaking scene, Harry didn't feel an immediate and intense urge to be sick, rather, his cock throbbed powerfully in his grip as both Ginny and Neville gasped in shared pleasure.
‘O-ooh!’
‘Shhh,’ Ginny hushed her overwhelmed lover as Harry watched his overinflated manhood impale her tight, glistening core. ‘Breathe, luv, breathe, think of your nan in a swimming costume…’
‘Stoooop!’ Neville wailed, though Gin’s words were critically effective as they both collapsed into a fit of hysterical giggles. Harry paid them no mind though, his gaze firmly fixed on Ginny's pale, toned bum, her lips having swallowed Nev’s crown whole as traces of her excitement seeped out of the tight seal they had around his shaft.
‘Here, you seem to love my tits, suck,’ Ginny finally ordered, her oxymoronically kind yet domineering tone turning Harry on as much as it clearly did Nev. Gin shoved Nev’s face against her chest and, as she steadied and prepared herself to take more of her lover's enviable endowment, Harry couldn't help but marvel at her confidence and evident experience, both of which somehow making the scene even more appealing.
She's so confident, so beautiful…
He watched as Gin’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, her mouth opening in a silent, ebullient scream as inch after inch of Nev’s cock squirmed its way inside her. Gin didn't stop lowering herself until Nev hit a very obvious wall inside her, his shaft kinking as it butted up against a hard stop.
Whatever that hard stop was, the door that seemingly barred Nev’s massive hog deeper entry, Gin seemed to very much appreciate her lover knocking.
‘Ooooh, Nev, that's b-bloody brilliant! Mhmmm, you absolute s-stud…’
The man in question tried to reply, but his voice was muffled by the nipple he was still suckling on.
‘Shhhh, don't speak,’ Gin hushed, without opening her screwed-shut eyes, before patting Nev on the head like a particularly obedient puppy. ‘You'll ruin it, j-just concentrate. You're so big, so amazing, I'll cum soon…’
As if to punctuate her words, Gin lifted herself once more and un-impaled herself, her pink lips refusing to relinquish their jealous hold on Nev's girthy manhood as she made the return journey.
Nev’s groan was loud and still muffled while Ginny started to visibly shake before lowering herself once more, the most adorable squeak then moan slipping from her lips as her descent was halted once more.
Harry confined to stroke, unable to look away from the pleasure on Ginny's flushed face as she slowly grew used to Neville's immense size, her pace increasing commensurately with her ardor.
Eventually, Ginny's bouncing turned into a kind of hypnotic dance Harry couldn't look away from, her downward thrusts accompanied by full circular gyrations of her hips while her entire body shuddered each time she pulled back.
The only one surprised when Ginny came with a guttural, long-winded groan was Neville. Pulling his face out from Ginny's cleavage, a look of obvious pride shined in his eyes as he not only - and with seemingly great effort - outlasted his lover, but brought her to an orgasm so powerful, her entire body shook and shuddered with pleasure for well over a minute, and she collapsed on the cushions beside him in a boneless heap.
Neville watched eagerly, his cock still painfully hard and resting against his pudgy belly, as awareness slowly returned to Ginny's features. Instead of speaking, Gin smiled beautifully and reached over to cup the side of Neville's face with a gentle touch, as if in thanks for the immense pleasure she'd just been subjected to.
‘Um…am I allowed to…?’
Seeing Gin's look of confusion, Nev sheepishly motioned to his still-hard cock. The look of hunger returned and burned bright in Ginny's dark eyes again as she bit her lip and smiled saucily.
‘Luv, after the orgasm you just gave me? You can have me as many times as your dick stays hard…’
Surprising both Harry and Ginny, the shy young man let out an atypical, enthusiastic growl and pounced, his lips going straight for Ginny's neck as he got on top of, then thrust inside her.
Apparently still a little sensitive from her orgasm, Ginny's moan as she was impaled once more on that mighty cock was even louder, and she quickly moved to muffle further embarrassing sounds by burying her face in Nev’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around his chest and pulling him close.
It was a good thing she'd done so, because Neville, now emboldened by his cheeky lover's teasing encouragement, was no longer eager to sit back and let Ginny dictate the pace. He was careful not to push top deep, but otherwise, his hips worked like a jackhammer, thrusting down into his vocally approving lover with an intensity that shocked and apparently delighted.
It would have been churlish to the extreme for Harry to complain given his blatant violation of their privacy, but he could have really done with not having Neville's flabby, rippling arse and massive, bouncing bollocks blocking his view of the delightful, wailing redhead.
Thankfully, this wasn't a muggle porno and he had full control of the scrying magic. Zooming in, Harry made himself comfortable and went back to eagerly wanking when his view was, instead, a close-up of Ginny's once-pretty pussy being impaled over and over by Nev’s huge cock, her delighted and sexy moans and groans an erotic and titillating backdrop.
Thankfully again, Nev couldn't keep up that pace and, after tearing another squealing orgasm from his lover, he pulled back with an exhausted huff. His enviable cock was still buried deep in Gin’s gushing womanhood, but his flabby bulk no longer blocked Harry's view of her beauty.
Ginny’s pale skin was a flushed, blotchy mess, her make-up was in tatters and her hair looked like she'd just been hit by a zapping jinx, but she'd never looked more beautiful in Harry's eyes.
Harry had adjusted the image so he was looking at Ginny from Neville's point of view, the magic being smart enough to attach itself to the pudgy young man’s gaze. It made it so the look of absolute hunger and reverence Ginny favoured Neville with was instead meant for him.
Harry groaned, his hand pumping at his cock faster.
He'd never felt so turned on and ashamed at once.
That wasn't enough to make him stop wanking like a pathetic twat though…
Taking a hold of Ginny's flailing ankles for leverage, Nev spread them wide and started thrusting anew, slowly picking up speed in time with his lover's ever more rapturous cries of ecstasy.
‘Yes, yes, YES! NEV, luv, you absolute STUD! So good, mmh, you're amazing!’
Despite having his praises vociferously sung by the quivering and moaning redhead, Nev was hardly paying her any attention. Not particularly in shape, it was taking a considerable amount of effort to keep up the relentless thrusting, his face pouring with sweat due to the pleasurable overexertion.
Harry had little interest in seeing the heavily panting, borderline delirious bloke’s fat jiggle with each of his violent thrusts, so he adjusted the view so that he'd see as little of it as possible. When finished, Harry relaxed and resumed his eager wank session, a three-dimensional projection of Ginny Weasley hovering over him naked, crying out in pleasure and with her tight, naked body rocking with the force of Neville's thrusts.
‘You're gonna make me cum again!’ Ginny cried in joyous, pleasant surprise, before biting her lip and arching her back off the pillows as she prepared for the fresh waves of mind-numbing pleasure.
‘I'm. Nearly. There!’ Nev grunted as sweat dripped off his brow, punctuating each word with a sloppy thrust.
‘In me!’ Ginny urged, her dark eyes sight alight with passion as she looked up at Nev, groping her pert tits and tugging at her own puffy, pink nipples as she did so. ‘Fill me up you naughty boy, paint your friend's kid sister's womb with your manly cum - oooooooooh yeeeeeees!’
Gin’s kinky words seemed to trigger Nev’s orgasm early and, after burying himself as deep as Ginny's tight pussy would allow, he hugged her legs to his chest and gasped out his release.
Close to climax himself, Harry eagerly switched the view to get a close up of Ginny's now ruined pussy. Nev gasped loudly each time his immense cock pulsed and unloaded fresh, warm cum into his lover's womb, his entire body trembling as pleasure overloaded all his receptors.
Ginny was no better. As she felt Nev’s hot cum filling her, she squealed and came again, her back arching as she let out a long, sexy, drawn-out moan. Her eyes were screwed shut, and her tight, delectable, naked body shook and trembled in pleasure. She'd tried to muffle her cries by biting her lip sexily, but she squealed and moaned again - though admittedly with far less energy - when Nev finally pulled out and collapsed back on his arse.
Harry didn't cum himself until he saw a thick, river of viscous cum start to ooze out of her poor, abused pussy and pool on the pillows beneath her.
His vision whited out as he launched over half a dozen spurts of cum all over his own chest, his reaction to his orgasm far less vocal than either of the lovers had been.
‘Bloody hell Nev, honey, that's the best sex I've ever had…’
Harry was slow to get his wits back. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a wank, and his body let him know it with the sheer power of his orgasm.
‘Oh hello, is this for me? Ready to go again? Merlin that's sexy…’
A clarity the likes of which he hadn't experienced in a long time descended over him, a tension he hadn't even realised he'd been carrying around easing from his shoulders.
‘Oh G-gin…yesss, lick my balls…’
With that clarity, however, came a wholly unpleasant sensation, a sensation he didn't like nearly as much and wished would go away, but one he knew was deserved.
Guilt.
Shame.
What have I done?
Before the projected representations of Ginny and Neville floating above the map could so much as utter another sound, Harry banished them with the deactivating command, hissed between clenched teeth. The cum that marred his chest was next to go, this time banished with an aggressive slash of his wand.
Falling back down on his bed, his forearm draped over and covering his burning, emerald eyes, Harry began a fresh round of self-recrimination.
I'm so fucking pathetic…
-
The Christmas break couldn't have come at a better time for Harry.
With the castle mostly empty, it allowed time for Harry to think, and plan.
While he felt no less pathetic for having spied on Ginny, his dreams had been filled with his memories of her slim, athletic body undulating in pleasure while being ploughed by Neville's huge dick.
It was utterly mad, but his feelings for his ex-mate's little sister had soared after watching her shag another bloke.
Conversely, his feelings for Hermione had sunk even faster in the opposite direction until they'd completely vanished. It was just as mad but, she'd gone from being his best friend, a woman he could see himself spending the rest of his life with, to…sometime he just knew.
With his mind clear of distractions, it allowed Harry to think about their relationship in a way he never really had before, free from the rage that had made him physically ill on that disastrous night over a week ago.
Their relationship - platonic, as it unfortunately was - hadn't even had the decency to be free from the typical drama one could expect from a romantic entanglement.
All the headaches of a relationship, none of the pleasure. I guess I'm just not enough of a twat to attract Miss Prim and Proper.
He snorted mentally as few juxtaposed that thought what he'd seen. Then, after the images of Hermione mid-coitus were overlapped by similar ones of Ginny, he had a far more sobering thought.
Maybe I'm just not big enough…
Before he could spiral down another unhelpful, self-deprecating train of thought, his musings were interrupted as the door to the Room of Requirement burst open, admitting in a flush and widely smiling Hermione.
She looked pretty in a tartan coat with a dusting of snow on its shoulders, tight beige leggings and brown riding boots. Her shock of frizzy, curly hair was gathered up under a beanie and her hands were covered in warm, woollen gloves.
He could barely get a word in before she reached down over the back of his chair and wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug, wishing him an enthusiastic Happy Christmas and New Year's before slowly letting him go.
Realisation had finally dawned - he wasn't returning her hug.
‘Y-you’re still upset with me…?’
Harry slowly spun his chair around - the Room really did make the best, most comfortable chairs in the castle - and favoured Hermione with a cold stare void of all emotion.
‘You've got a lot of nerve coming in here with that attitude,’ Harry whispered, failing to keep the faint growl out of his voice. ‘After what you did, after who you did…’
Hermione’s cheeks, which had been flushed - no-doubt after running straight here to look for him - paled noticeably at the implication of his words. So quick however that it must have given her some kind of whiplash, her eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed crimson in indignant rage.
‘You spied on me?!’
He figured that was where she'd go, so he'd mentally charged the Room to conjure a Pensieve between them. Hermione’s no-doubt legendary, self-righteous tirade was interrupted by the sound of stone grinding on stone and, from in between them, a wide, silver bowl carved with intricate, ancient runes rose up above a squat, obsidian plinth.
The bowl’s contents swirled with an ethereal, cloudy liquid that looked halfway towards dissolving into smoke.
Hermione, no dummy, recognised the conjured artefact immediately.
‘What -’
Harry interrupted her with a stare so intense, it froze the beautiful woman on the spot, the tip of his wand resting against his temple.
‘I didn't need to.’
With his words softly spoken, despite how the little devil on his shoulder begged him to unleash all his pent-up rage. Harry drew out a specific, unpleasant memory - he had several to choose from, unfortunately - a strand of misty white vapour tethered to his wand and set gently into the bowl.
Hermione still looked like she wanted to give him a piece of her mind but, finally, wisdom won out and she dunked her head in the shallow pool.
While most of Hogwarts’ students had been home for the holidays, the same couldn't be said for the visiting schools.
For meals, he'd been forced to share the Great Hall not just with a smattering of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students, but with the largest, unified group of Durmstrang’s finest he'd ever seen.
Led by, of course, Viktor Krum.
The international quidditch superstar couldn't wait to demonstrate his class at every opportunity, cornering and trying to intimidate him in the hallways by surrounding Harry with his mates and going into excruciating detail about how he'd made Hermione his.
How he'd made her squeal on his huge cock.
Honestly, it might have actually worked had Harry not witnessed the ordeal first hand.
Instead, Harry had just smiled every time and wished him well. Until the last time, anyway, where Harry had made sure Krum was reminded just which of the champions had bested a dragon with pure wand-work alone.
He'd still wished him well, of course, but also reminded the colossal cunt that the Black Lake was a treacherous place…and accidents happen all the time in the Triwizard tournament.
As a group, they'd seemed to realise, as one, that Harry wasn't intimidated by them, and though his words were polite, the look in his eyes was anything but.
In truth, Harry wished they'd tried something.
He could have really used the stress relief.
When Hermione emerged from the Pensieve with a loud gasp, Harry wasn't too proud to admit he got a real kick from seeing her tear-stained cheeks and wide eyes.
He wasn't too proud to stick the boot in a little more either.
‘Had to deal with that every day, cheers for that.’ His sardonic words snapped Hermione out of her fugue, but before she could speak again, Harry cut her off. ‘Now if you'll kindly fuck off and never speak to me again, I have a tournament to prepare for.’
His words seemed to shock her more than the memory in the Pensieve did.
‘You're blaming me for that?!’
‘Yes.’
Hermione gaped at him incredulously, fresh tears spilling from her watery eyes and over red cheeks. ‘H-how?! Krum used me and you're blaming me?!’
‘Oh come off it Hermione,’ Harry snapped, his use of her full name without shortening it surprising her more than his acidic tone. ‘It takes two to tango, and you're not a child.’
There was something he'd wanted to get off his chest for a long time now, something he had kept to himself to spare Hermione's feelings.
Needless to say, he wasn't all that concerned with doing that right now. Especially after Hermione had flipped one of his triggers by mentioning that Harry and her weren't dating in the midst of her blathering justifications.
That set him off real good.
He should probably get that temper checked out. Or start wanking a lot more.
‘Out of curiosity,’ he said, shouting over her mewling and sniffling apologies. ‘Had, hypothetically,’ he began, the emphasis he’d put on the term belying its sincerity, ‘Greengrass and Parkinson offered to shag me, say, during their worst bullying campaign against you, how would you have responded if I'd accepted?’
That pulled her up short and Hermione's eyes widened in horror. He got a sick sense of pleasure in seeing realisation dawn in those beautiful brown eyes, eyes he used to be able to stare into all day like a lovesick idiot.
This is no damn hypothetical.
‘It obviously never happened, I'd never do that to the woman I loved, but go on, tell me how you'd slap me on the back and congratulate me for shagging two of the fittest women at Hogwarts.’ Hermione stood like a statue, looking as if she were going to be sick as the parallels started to dawn on her. ‘Tell me how okay you'd have been with me doing that?’
He was, of course, met with deafening silence. He was about to continue when his ex-best-friend managed a single, strangled word.
‘You love me?’
‘It'll do you no good to ignore the past participle, Hermione. You killed any chance of that by shagging that prick.’ A hand flew to her mouth and she sobbed when she realised he wasn't kidding around, that their relationship, or whatever potential there'd been for one, was truly gone.
Before it had even had a chance to begin.
A bone weary sigh escaped his lips and he fell back into the comfy armchair he'd been sitting in when Hermione burst into the room.
‘I had a lot of time to think over the Holidays,’ he whispered, staring intently into the misty, ethereal waters of the pensieve. ‘Being a social pariah, I have nothing but time to think.’
Hermione flinched at the acidic reminder.
‘I kept asking myself if I was being too hard on you. You're right, we're not dating. You're free to do whatever, or whoever you want…’
A dark part of himself relished in the look of hope in Hermione's glistening eyes. Relished it, because it would allow him to hurt her just a little bit more, to put her through the pain he’d been dealing with and forcing deep, deep down.
Probably not healthy, that.
‘But then I realised I wasn't being hard on you at all - I'm just holding you to the same standard I held myself to. I don't want someone in my life that doesn't think or care about my feelings the way I care about theirs…’
He looked up, not reacting at all to the rivers of tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘Forget a relationship, I don't even want a friend that would treat me like that. Hermione… just…leave.’
She didn't, but immediately.
‘You… didn't deny it.’ Her words were thick with emotion and Harry looked up in confusion. A part of him was just glad she wasn't fighting him on this - he didn't have the energy to do so.
Maybe she'd used that analytical mind of hers to reverse their positions, and realised exactly how she'd have reacted had he shagged Greengrass or Parkinson or, heaven forbid, both.
Mount Granger would have erupted, spells would have flown.
His reaction was rather tame in comparison, he thought.
Hermione continued. ‘When I asked if you spied on me, you didn't deny it, you said you didn't need to…’
Harry didn't think he owed her anything, but after staring into her red-rimmed eyes for several tense moments, he shrugged.
‘Up to the last moment, a part of me didn't believe you'd actually fall for it, would actually hurt me like that…’ He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as his mind unhelpfully assaulted him with images of a moaning and groaning Hermione, her pussy gaping wide after Krum pulled out of her, and a river of cum oozing out of her freshly-fucked hole. ‘I had to make sure you weren't being…coerced.’
He looked up, his eyes flashing with dark amusement even as fresh tears started to spill from Hermione's eyes.
‘Needless to say, I found you a willing and ever so eager participant.’ At her stricken expression, Harry put on his least sincere smile and spread his arms wide. ‘Good news! Maybe Krum can keep you company now, you seem to enjoy his well enough.’
He ended their conversation by spinning his chair around and putting his back to her, shutting the door on their relationship for good.
Hermione just stood there for an uncomfortable amount of time, mustering up the courage to say something in an effort to save their relationship, and coming up woefully short.
He let out a sigh of relief when she eventually left, the heavy door closing shut behind her.
There was a metaphor there, one he wasn’t entirely displeased with.
If this year had taught him anything, it was that he didn’t have time for fake friends who didn’t treat him like he treated them.
The only thing stopping him from wondering if he was asking too much from people was the knowledge that he didn’t ask of them what he wouldn’t ask from himself. They weren’t just words either, he lived his principles.
He’d confided with Sirius over the holidays via their two-way mirrors and his godfather had, predictably, had his back.
Though he’d looked just as devastated. Sirius had really liked Hermione, no doubt imagining his parents when he saw them together.
Harry rubbed at his tired eyes and let out a weary sigh. He hadn’t just been brooding this past week, and his preparations for the second task had been trying… if a lot of fun.
There was another conversation he needed to have that day, one his conscience wouldn’t allow him to put off any longer. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a Patronus in the shape of his snowy white owl and sent it along with a message for the person he wanted to speak with, very much in private.
He watched it fly off and phase through the solid, stone wall, its mission to deliver his message and guide the recipient back to him. The Room was still a relatively secret place after all, with few of Hogwarts’ students knowledgeable of its whereabouts and function - one of Professor Dumbledore’s only kindnesses after his name had been spit out of the Goblet was the knowledge of the Room of Requirement, and it effectively been rendered into his custody as a means to not only tain, but study in private.
His skills had come along in leaps and bounds using it. With the ability to conjure any book in Hogwarts’ extensive library - even ones he strictly shouldn’t have access to - or transform itself into any configuration that would best suit his needs, it had been an invaluable asset to help him compete against Witches and Wizards several years his senior, with many more years on top of that in training with magic.
This scenery is way too depressing…
At the moment, the Room looked like a typical, unused classroom with stone walls and floors, desks pushed up against the walls, a dais where a professor could give lectures from and a board with which to write their notes in chalk beside it.
With a frown of concentration, the room started to magically shift around him. He’d freaked out the first time it had done this, but he’d long-since grown used to how it worked now.
In the blink of an eye, the stone floor dissolved into warm sand, his feet sinking several inches as the room kept changing around him. While he was looking down and taking off his shoes and socks, the rest of the room didn’t remain idle. The walls and ceiling were next to fall away, to be replaced with a picturesque landscape of a tropical island beach.
Even the sun that shone brightly in the clear blue sky overhead had real heat to it, while the crystal clear water that lapped at his toes was pleasantly cool.
Why the bloody hell did I wait so long to try this?!
Harry had a sudden, dawning realisation.
Is this the reason Dumbledore let me use this room? Not to train… but to relax?
He felt like an absolute bellend, but he quickly let the self-recominations slide - there’d been enough of those already.
‘What the bloody hell is this?!’
Had a door not inconspicuously materialised and broken the picturesque, tropical scenery, Harry may have started at the loud, incredulous exclamation. Instead, he turned to his guest and offered a short smile.
‘Hey Gin - enjoy the holidays?’
Ginny gaped at him, her dark brown eyes wide and her coppery locks flowing in the warm, artificial breeze. ‘Naff my bleeding holidays Harry, we have a tropical beach at Hogwarts?!’
Despite the queasy feeling in his gut at knowing what he had to do, Harry couldn’t help the small smile at the pretty younger woman’s incredulity. He tried really hard not to imagine her how she’d been when with Neville, but his horny mind kept supplying him images of the ginger beauty naked, and in the throes of passion.
‘Something like that,’ he said in a softly spoken tone, the tension in his shoulders easing as he basked in the artificial sun’s wondrous warmth. ‘Benefits of being the underdog Champion, I guess. Dumbledore showed me this room earlier in the year - I’ve been using it to train, didn’t know it could turn into a beach…’
At her incredulous look, Harry told her of the wondrous Room of Requirement, his heart feeling light as he watched the beautiful young woman frolic take off her coat, roll up her jeans and splash about in the waves with a laugh.
God she looks so beautiful…
Once done, Ginny turned to him with a narrowed eye stare. ‘Is this why you called me up here? Or does it have something to do with why Hermione is crying her eyes out?’
The smile on Harry’s face froze and Ginny stepped back like a frightened kitten at what she must have seen in his eyes. He reigned in his anger and got a handle on his emotions before answering with a tired sigh.
‘That’s…rather personal, but in the interest of transparency, we had a fight and are no longer friends.’
Ginny gaped at him incredulously, not believing what he’d just said. Harry and Hermione had been like best friends almost since their very first year at Hogwarts. He could see the desire to know more in her eyes, and he may just tell her - it wasn’t like he was in a position to ask to respect his privacy, after all.
‘Sooo… assuming you’ll not elaborate further, why’d you call me here?’ She giggled and kicked at the water that had lapped at her toes before turning back to Harry with a wide smile. ‘Not gonna lie, if it’s just to show me this, it’s worth it. The sun’s warm, but I’m not burning - do you have any idea how brilliant that is for me?’
Harry snorted in amusement, but any mirth quickly died when he realised what he was about to say next, and as he predicted Ginny’s reaction.
‘No, though you’re free to come hang out here whenever you like - I could use the company.’ He paused, let out a long, weary sigh before continuing. It was time to face the music. ‘The reason I called you up here is to tell you that… I saw you. On the night of the Yule Ball. I’m… I need to apologise.’
Ginny looked up at him with a confused smile. ‘...Yeah, I saw you too. Bloody brilliant opening the ball with ol’ Minnie by the way. I had no idea you were such a good dancer -’
‘-No, you don’t understand,’ Harry interrupted with a frustrated sigh. ‘After the ball. I saw you, in the Astronomy tower, with Neville.’
It really was quite shocking how quick Ginny Weasley could go from teasing to raging tempest. Her smile turned into a scowl, her pale cheeks blushed crimson and her eyes narrowed into slits. ‘You spied on me? What? With your invisibility cloak, you pervert? Is that why Hermione is crying and you aren’t friends anymore?!’
He didn’t feel the need to correct her regarding the method he’d used to spy. As for averting the disaster of Mount Weasley’s eruption, Harry eyed her hand creeping towards her wand and decided to diffuse the situation using the cold, hard truth.
‘We’re no longer friends because not only did Hermione ditch me for the ball, knowing full well no one was willing to go with me, but she also shagged Krum, even after knowing how horrible he’s been to me all year. The prick made sure to let me know all about it during the holidays too.’
His plan worked to perfection and Ginny’s eyes widened in shock, her anger all-but forgotten. ‘Oh no, she didn’t…’
Harry raised a disbelieving eyebrow her way. He knew how much of a fan Ginny was of the quidditch superstar, modelling most of her game after his - he wondered if she’d have been able to resist.
Given what he was about to do, he sure as shit hoped so…
‘That’s neither here nor there. Are you two dating?’
The seeming non sequitur completely threw her for the loop. It took Ginny a second to gather her thoughts and realise just what, or who she was talking about, and her eyes narrowed once more - no doubt coming to the incorrect conclusion.
Harry didn’t begrudge her that, it wasn’t as if he’d left her with a good impression…
‘I don’t see how that’s any of your business - I’ve had to deal with enough bollocks over the break from my idiotic brothers -’
‘I want to make it my business, Gin…’
That pulled her up short and as she stared at him in disbelief, Harry just stood there, feeling more vulnerable than he had while staring down the angry, nesting, Hungarian Horntail.
Harry had known about Ginny’s crush for a while now, obviously. What had started as rather annoying had turned endearing when she finally learned to actually speak around him. There had never been a chance of anything happening while he carried a torch for Hermione but, well, that was no longer an issue.
And I’m so… very tired of being alone…
‘I… you want to date me?’ Her question was incredulous, but at least she wasn’t angry anymore. ‘Even after what you saw?’
Harry’s face scrunched in confusion. ‘Why should that matter? How you choose to spend your free time, or with whom, is none of my business… though I’d like that to maybe change?’
Her cheeks were flush for a different reason now, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat when she closed the distance between them, her eyebrows raised in curiosity and as she looked him up and down.
When she stood so close that Harry could smell her minty breath, she finally spoke, her voice a husky whisper. ‘I don’t appreciate you spying on me…’ She looked him up and down once more before they locked gazes, and Harry felt his heart skip another beat when she saw her nibbling at her bottom lip.
He’d seen that look on her face before, when she was very horny.
‘But… I appreciate you owning up to it and apologising.’ She kept examining him, trying to read his thoughts by staring deep into his eyes. On seeing his growing blush, Ginny’s smile turned positively naughty. ‘So…did you wank?’
He'd been agonising over this meeting for the past week. He'd never considered not throwing himself at her mercy - what he'd done was wrong and he couldn't imagine his own reaction if their roles were reversed.
He'd been expecting to let her get a few curses and jinxes in, even to have him grassed on to McGonagall - especially given his audacity in immediately asking her to date him.
He did not expect for her to flirt with and tease him…
I wonder if it's because of our surroundings…
He had to admit, it was pretty hard to stay mad in fake paradise…maybe he should take a page out of Sirius’ book and meditate in the sun…?
‘Well?’ Ginny asked devilishly, getting right up in his personal space and grinning wickedly at him. Harry was tongue-tied, completely at a loss for words. The most adventurous thing he'd ever done with a woman in his life was asking the temptress in front of him to date him…
Instead of answering with his words, Harry swallowed thickly and nodded in the affirmative, his cheeks and neck blossoming with heat with his shame - it certainly didn't help that Ginny openly laughed, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable she was making him.
Ginny clicked her tongue but didn't look displeased, as he'd feared.
‘You naughty boy…’ she purred, and Harry sucked in a startled breath when he felt her dexterous fingers go to his waist and start to unbuckle his trousers. He'd been backing up as Ginny invaded his personal space, right up until his back hit the rough trunk of a palm tree. ‘Here I thought you were supposed to be all noble… hmm, kind of sexy that you're not, to be honest…’
What the bloody hell is going on?!
It took all his impressive willpower to not yelp when the youngest Weasley put her cool hand in his pants and gripped his aching cock, groping him like he was a prized stud and she was inspecting the merchandise.
He flushed with embarrassment when Ginny’s smile dimmed and she noticeably deflated.
‘Huh,’ she hummed with clear disappointment. ‘A… lot less impressive than the rumours suggested.’
Harry couldn't help swelling with indignation, embarrassment at having the first girl who'd touched him react like this driving him.
‘Rumours?!’ his indignant squawk had sounded a lot more impressive in his head. ‘What rumours?! I've never been with anyone!’
Ginny’s next words caught him completely by surprise, not because of their casual cruelty, but because she wasn't even meaning to sound that way.
‘Mm, I can see why…’
She didn't even have the good grace to look him in the eye when she said it, completely distracted by her own thoughts.
Her words had hurt a lot more than Harry was willing to admit, the insinuation that he was unworthy of affection because he didn't have a massive todger flying a little too close to making true Krum's viscous, cruel mocking.
Ginny had finally come to a decision, and Harry sucked in an excited breath. She looked up at him with big, brown eyes, a radiant smile blossoming on her pretty features while her cool hand still absently stroked his pulsing cock.
‘I'd love to date you, Harry…’
Harry resisted the urge to jump for joy, or allow his heart to burst with happiness. While he was ecstatic, he sensed a Professor Sprout-sized butt coming.
‘Buuuut,’ she continued in a teasing tone, her previously beautiful smile turning positively wicked. Harry had forgotten how to breathe, this diminutive, pretty redhead having total power over him like nothing ever had before. ‘Well, you said you watched me with Nev, right? I forgive you, by the way -’ she gave him a cheeky wink before continuing, while Harry felt as if all the blood in his body was rushing to his cock and face. ‘But if you watched me, I'm sure you recall how much I enjoyed Neville's, ahem, talents…’
She made sure to squeeze his far less impressive endowment for emphasis, as if he needed to be reminded of his shortcomings.
‘While I'd love to date you, you wouldn't exactly be able to scratch that… itch inside me, would you?’
His mouth dryer than he could ever remember and his face burning with shame, Harry licked his lips and swallowed thickly, hating how pathetic his voice sounded when he could finally speak.
‘W-what are you saying…?’
He’d heard blokes say to each other in the past the worst thing they can do is say no.
What utter bollocks.
Ginny nibbled at her bottom lip to mask her mischievous smile and hummed in thought.
‘I'm not quite sure we're completely sexually compatible,’ she began, as Harry felt the bottom of his guts fall out beneath him. ‘So while I think you're a great bloke and would love to date you… after Neville… I don't think I can go without. I think I might be a bit of a size queen…’
Harry stared down at her with wide eyes, once more forgetting to breathe. His reaction did something to Ginny however, because her eyes flashed and smouldered with desire.
‘I don't think I can be exclusive… I'm sure you understand?’
She hadn't stopped stroking him as she spoke her sinful proposition and, despite his guts churning with angst, he still remained as hard and turned-on as ever.
Harry was inexperienced, confused and desperate - at any other time in his life, he imagined he'd have told the pretty redhead to sod-off…
But guilt, and desperation brought on by ostracism, stilled his tongue.
I don't want to be alone anymore…
Unbidden, images of his family came to mind, their faces an angry puce as they screeched at him, calling him a no-good freak that nobody would ever love…
Harry shuddered when, after a prolonged silence, Ginny stepped up on her tippy-toes and pressed her lips against his ear.
‘And this time…I'll give you permission to watch me as much as you want,’ she purred, her hot breath causing his skin to break out in goosebumps. ‘You won’t need to feel guilty, you can watch under your cloak as blokes shag me with their massive pricks…’
Blokes…?
‘You'd love that, would you? Dirty boy, my deviant little voyeuristic cuckold?’
When she pulled away, Harry was startled by how horny she looked. Her eyes were heavily lidded with desire, her cheeks flush and she had her bottom lip between her teeth.
She was also no longer stroking him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, stared deep into his eyes and ground her denim-covered midsection against his uncovered, apparently insignificant, manhood.
He hated himself for it, more than he could put to words, but Harry found himself nodding nevertheless, his cheeks burning with shame.
Ginny squealed with delight, her smile once more radiant and beautiful, before she pulled him down into a heated, passionate snog.
His first.
It almost made him forget how fucked up this situation was.
As Ginny eagerly slipped her tongue past his pursed lips and sought his own, Harry groaned with despair when he realised he had no idea what he was doing, what to do with his tongue, or where to even put his hands.
Before he could even finish mentally berating himself, Ginny pulled back with a dissatisfied click of her tongue and a frown.
‘Hm, we'll have to work on that…’
Before Harry even had time to flush with shame, Ginny slowly dropped to her knees before him, her big, brown eyes staring up at him so cheekily that it made his knees go weak. Had he not already been leaning against the faux palm tree, he might have joined Ginny in the warm sand.
On her journey down, Ginny had pulled his trousers down with her until his achingly hard, five-inch member cleared the waistband of his pants, sprung up and slapped his new girlfriend on the chin.
Seeing his member right next to the pretty redhead's smiling face would have, at one point, easily been the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. The moment was completely ruined, however, by the mocking giggle Ginny let out at seeing his far-less impressive member sticking out from his bush of curly pubes.
Harry had never felt self-conscious about the size of his manhood before, but after recently watching Krum shagging the girl of his dreams with a veritable beater's bat, and Neville shagging the other with one comparable in size, his confidence had taken a battering.
‘Well…’ Ginny broke the tense silence with a teasing tone, her eyes flicking back up to his as she held his knob teasingly close to her pretty, pink lips. ‘Hopefully you'll at least have some stamina…’
Before he could even properly comprehend her words, Harry was taken completely by surprise when Ginny swallowed his five-inch member all the way to the root, her lips pressed against his groin and her tongue swirling around his shaft like an insatiable twister.
Harry's mind blanked with pleasure as he was overwhelmed by the completely foreign, brilliant sensation. Ginny’s mouth was so warm, so wet, her tongue so soft and slimy…
Before he knew what was happening, Harry had gasped and spilled his seed into his girlfriend's mouth with embarrassing haste.
Harry's vision had whited out as his intense orgasm completely took him by surprise, his body shaking as waves of pleasure emanating from his shaft pulsed out to the rest of his body.
When sense returned, Harry realised he'd crashed down into the sand next to his cheekily grinning girlfriend who was using her dainty fingers to collect a loose strand of cum with her fingers before sucking it clean.
Harry gaped at Ginny in shock, his cheeks burning with shame and need in equal measure.
‘Well,’ she began, breaking the awkward silence with her sinfully wicked words, ‘at least I won’t need to rely on you to see to my sexual needs.’ Her eyes flashed, not with cruelty, but with desire. ‘This is so hot, I never knew you were such a pervert Harry.’
Harry, his body still tingling with pleasure and his shrivelled cock still hyper-sensitive, gasped when Ginny pinched him in between her thumb and index finger, a naughty smile playing on her pretty features.
‘It’s so cute,’ she squealed as she pinched and tugged at his pathetically shrivelled cock, as if she was fawning over a baby puppy. Her gaze then lifted and bored into his own, her beautiful brown eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘Ooooh, we’re gonna have so much fun…’