Harry adjusted his dress robes one final time as he waited in the private room, feeling oddly satisfied with how the evening was already shaping up. The black fabric was of excellent quality, fitted perfectly, and made him look slightly older than his age. He’d forgone the traditional wizarding style for something more modern, closer to a Muggle tuxedo but with subtle magical enhancements woven into the fabric.
The sound of heels clicking on the stone stairs made him turn, and Harry had to admit that the sight before him was worth every galleon he’d spent on arrangements for tonight.
Regina descended first, her crimson dress hugging every curve of her body in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The neckline plunged dramatically, the fabric seeming to defy gravity as it clung to her breasts before flowing down to pool around her feet. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant style that exposed the graceful line of her neck and shoulders. The smile on her face was positively predatory.
“Well,” she purred as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t you clean up nicely.”
Behind her came Daphne and Fleur, and Harry felt his breath catch despite himself. Daphne wore midnight blue that brought out the ice in her eyes, the dress elegant and sophisticated with just enough skin showing to be interesting. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and the expression on her face was decidedly annoyed.
Fleur’s silver dress shimmered like moonlight on water, the color perfect against her pale skin and silvery blonde hair. The cut was more daring than Daphne’s but less overtly sexual than Regina’s, striking a balance between elegance and allure that only a Veela could manage. Her blue eyes were narrowed in barely suppressed irritation.
“You look beautiful,” Harry said honestly, addressing all three of them.
“Don’t try to charm your way out of this,” Daphne said sharply, though her cheeks colored slightly at the compliment. “I can’t believe you’re actually making us go together.”
“Eet ees humiliating,” Fleur added, her accent thicker with her irritation. “Everyone will sink we are lovers.”
Regina’s laugh was bright with amusement as she glided over to Harry and looped her arm through his. “Oh, this is going to be absolutely delicious. The looks on people’s faces when they see the two of you arrive together while Harry escorts me? I might actually die from the entertainment value.”
“Shut up, Regina,” both witches said in unison, which only made Regina laugh harder.
Harry couldn’t quite suppress his own grin. The plan had formed yesterday after yet another pointless argument between Daphne and Fleur over something so trivial he’d already forgotten what sparked it. If they were going to keep bickering like an old married couple, he’d decided, they might as well actually spend some time together without him as a buffer.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Daphne continued, crossing her arms under her breasts in a way that made the neckline of her dress shift interestingly. “We’re not children who need to be forced to play nice together.”
“No, you’re worse,” Harry replied easily. “Children eventually grow out of petty squabbling. You two seem determined to make it a lifelong hobby.”
Fleur’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Zis ees your fault for putting us in zis situation in ze first place.”
“My fault?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t the one who started an argument about the proper way to organize research notes last night. Or the one who responded by suggesting the other person’s organizational skills matched their fashion sense.”
Both witches had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at that reminder, though neither backed down from their glares.
Regina was practically vibrating with glee against Harry’s side. “Oh, this is better than I imagined. They’re so angry they’re actually matching each other’s expressions. Look at them, Harry. It’s like looking in a mirror of fury.”
“I will hex you,” Daphne threatened.
“After I ‘ave,” Fleur added.
“See?” Regina crowed triumphantly. “You’re already working together. The evening is off to a wonderful start.”
Harry watched as both witches rounded on Regina with murder in their eyes, and he decided it was probably time to intervene before his date for the evening ended up cursed before they even left the room.
“Enough,” he said, his voice carrying just enough authority to cut through the building tension. All three witches turned to look at him, and Harry took advantage of their momentary silence to move away from Regina and approach Daphne and Fleur.
They both tensed slightly as he got closer, clearly expecting another lecture about cooperation and maturity. Instead, Harry reached out and pulled Daphne close with one hand while his other arm wrapped around Fleur’s waist, bringing both witches flush against him.
“You think I’m punishing you,” Harry murmured, his voice low and intimate enough that Regina had to strain to hear from where she stood. “You’re wrong.”
Daphne opened her mouth to protest, but Harry’s hand slid down to cup her arse possessively, squeezing in a way that made her breath catch. His other hand did the same to Fleur, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her dress.
“This isn’t punishment,” Harry continued, his lips close enough to Daphne’s ear that she shivered. “This is an opportunity. For you two to finally spend time together without me in the middle. To remember that you actually like each other when you’re not competing for my attention.”
He shifted his attention to Fleur, his mouth hovering near her throat. “And if you behave tonight, if you actually make an effort to get along and enjoy each other’s company, there will be a very pleasant reward waiting for you back here.”
Fleur’s breath hitched audibly. “What sort of reward?”
“The kind that involves all three of us,” Harry said bluntly, his hands tightening on both their arses. “The kind that leaves you both too satisfied to argue about anything for at least a week.”
Daphne made a soft sound that was half gasp, half whimper. Harry took advantage of her parted lips to capture her mouth in a kiss that was all heat and promise, his tongue sweeping past her defenses to taste her thoroughly. She melted against him, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he kissed her deeply enough to make his intentions crystal clear.
When he finally pulled back, Daphne’s eyes were glazed and her cheeks flushed. Harry immediately turned to Fleur and gave her the same treatment, kissing her with enough intensity that she made a breathy little sound of pleasure against his mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair, trying to pull him closer even as he maintained control of the kiss.
Harry released them both, stepping back with a satisfied smirk as they swayed slightly. Both witches looked thoroughly kissed, their lips swollen and their breathing unsteady.
“Behave,” Harry said simply, before he raised his hand and brought it down sharply on first Daphne’s arse, then Fleur’s. Both witches jumped at the impact, their eyes going wide.
Regina’s delighted laugh rang through the room. “Oh, I like this plan even better now.”
Harry returned to Regina’s side, offering her his arm with a grin. “Shall we?”
“Absolutely,” Regina purred, pressing herself against him as they headed for the door. “This is going to be the best Yule Ball in history.”
Harry glanced back as they reached the exit to find both Daphne and Fleur still standing frozen where he’d left them, staring after him with expressions of shocked arousal and lingering irritation.
“You’re terrible,” Daphne finally managed.
“You’re going to pay for zis,” Fleur added, but there was less heat in her voice than before.
“Looking forward to it,” Harry called back with a grin and swept out of the room with Regina on his arm, her laughter echoing behind them.
For several long moments, Daphne and Fleur remained motionless, processing what had just happened. Finally, Daphne let out a long, frustrated sigh.
“He’s absolutely insufferable.”
“Oui,” Fleur agreed. “Completely.”
Another pause.
“But ze reward ‘e promised,” Fleur said slowly.
“Would probably be worth putting up with an evening of people staring at us,” Daphne finished.
They looked at each other, something passing between them that might have been understanding or might have been shared exasperation. Either way, it was progress.
“We should go,” Daphne said finally. “Before we’re late and give him an excuse to withdraw his offer.”
“Agreed.” Fleur smoothed down her dress, checking her appearance once again. “Though I still intend to make ‘im suffer for zis later.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Daphne said with feeling. “He’s far too smug for his own good.”
They made their way toward the door together, and if their steps were slightly less hostile than usual, neither mentioned it.
The walk to the Great Hall gave them time to prepare for the inevitable stares and whispers. Daphne kept her expression cool and composed, the perfect ice princess that Slytherin expected her to be. Fleur’s natural Veela allure created a bubble of space around them, most students too intimidated to approach directly.
“Zis ees going to be terrible,” Fleur muttered as they approached the entrance.
“Agreed,” Daphne replied. “But at least we look good.”
“Zat we do.”
The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland, ice sculptures glittering in the magical light and snow falling from the enchanted ceiling without ever reaching the ground. Round tables surrounded a large dance floor, and students in their finest dress robes milled about in clusters, gossiping and preening.
Every head turned as Daphne and Fleur entered together.
The whispers started immediately, spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Daphne could hear fragments of conversation, speculation about their relationship, questions about where Harry was, and expectedly,crude jokes about what two beautiful witches might do together without a wizard around.
“Ignore zem,” Fleur said quietly, her chin lifted in aristocratic disdain.
“Always do,” Daphne replied, matching her posture.
They spotted Harry and Regina almost immediately. The pair stood near one of the ice sculptures, Regina pressed against Harry’s side in a way that made her claim on him abundantly clear. Both were watching Daphne and Fleur’s entrance with obvious amusement.
Regina’s smirk was insufferable. Harry’s was worse.
“I am going to ‘ex ‘im,” Fleur said conversationally.
“Get in line,” Daphne replied. “I’ve already planned seventeen different curses, arranged by level of suffering.”
“Only seventeen? Amateur.”
Despite herself, Daphne felt her lips twitch. “How many do you have?”
“Twenty three. Would you like to compare notes?”
“Later,” Daphne said. “After we’ve actually executed them.”
They made their way through the crowd, looking united in their shared irritation and mutual goals. Students parted before them, some staring openly, others whispering behind their hands.
Professor McGonagall was organizing the champions near the head table, her expression stern but her eyes twinkling slightly as she took in the unusual pairings.
“Ah, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said as Harry and Regina approached. “And Miss Parkinson. I see you’ve chosen to escort each other this evening.”
“Yes, Professor,” Harry said easily. “I hope that’s acceptable.”
“Perfectly acceptable,” McGonagall replied, though her gaze moved past them to where Daphne and Fleur approached together. “Miss Greengrass, Miss Delacour. How lovely you both look.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Daphne said with perfect politeness.
“You’ll be dancing the opening waltz shortly,” McGonagall continued. “Champions and their partners. I trust you all will represent your esteemed institutions with pride and honor.”
A chorus of affirmatives answered her, though Harry noticed Krum looked decidedly uncomfortable with the entire concept.
The champions were arranged in pairs, with Harry and Regina positioned beside Daphne and Fleur. Regina’s smile was positively evil as she leaned in close to the other witches.
“You two look so lovely together,” she purred. “Like a matched set. I’m sure everyone is wondering which one is leading.”
“Regina,” Harry said mildly, “if you get hexed before the dance starts, I’m not defending you.”
“Spoilsport.”
The music began, a sweeping waltz that signaled the start of the ball. Harry led Regina onto the floor, very aware of Daphne and Fleur following behind them. The assembled students and faculty watched as the champions and their partners took their positions.
Regina fit against Harry perfectly, her body moving in sync with his as they began to dance. She was an excellent dancer, light on her feet and intuitive to his movements. Harry found himself actually enjoying it despite the spectacle.
“You’re watching them,” Regina observed after the first turn.
“Hard not to,” Harry admitted. Daphne and Fleur were dancing together with the kind of stiff formality that suggested neither was entirely comfortable, but they were managing it without obvious disaster.
“They’ll be fine,” Regina said. “Probably. Possibly. There’s at least a sixty percent chance they won’t curse each other before the night is over.”
“Your confidence is inspiring.”
“I try.”
The waltz continued, other couples joining them on the floor as the evening officially began. Harry caught glimpses of several students scattered throughout, Neville dancing with some Hufflepuff girl and actually looking happy about it, the Weasley twins entertaining a group of Ravenclaws with some sort of conjured fireworks that McGonagall was pretending not to notice.
When the opening dance concluded, the champions were finally released from their obligations and allowed to mingle. Harry barely had time to escort Regina off the floor before Daphne appeared at his side, her expression dangerous.
“A word,” she said sweetly, in the tone that suggested arguing would be unwise.
Regina grinned and patted Harry on the shoulder. “Have fun. I’ll be at the refreshment table, enjoying the show.”
Harry allowed Daphne to pull him into a slightly quieter corner, very aware that they were still being watched by a significant portion of the student body.
“You,” Daphne said with barely controlled fury, “are absolutely insufferable.”
“You’ve mentioned that,” Harry replied, unable to suppress his grin. “Several times, actually.”
“Do you ‘ave any idea ‘ow embarrassing zis ees?” Fleur demanded, appearing on his other side and effectively boxing him in. “Everyone thinks we are together. Ze gossip ees terrible.”
“Is it though?” Harry asked mildly. “Or are you both just annoyed that I’m having a good time while you’re being forced to actually cooperate?”
Both witches glared at him with identical expressions of outrage, which only proved his point about how similar they were.
“You find zis amusing,” Fleur accused.
“Very much,” Harry confirmed with a grin. “Watching you two work yourselves into a fury over something that’s actually good for you is incredibly entertaining.”
“Good for us?” Daphne’s voice rose slightly. “How is public humiliation good for us?”
“It’s not humiliation, Daph,” Harry smiled. “It’s an opportunity to show everyone that you’re both strong enough to attend a ball together. And that when the time comes, you two can be as close a pair as two people can possibly be.”
The logic of that seemed to penetrate their anger slightly, though neither looked particularly mollified.
“Besides,” Harry continued, his voice dropping to something more intimate, “I seem to remember promising you a very generous reward if you behave. Or have you both forgotten about that already?”
The shift in their expressions was immediate and gratifying. Anger gave way to heat, fury to anticipation.
“We ‘ave not forgotten,” Fleur said, her voice lower now.
“Good,” Harry said. “Then stop complaining and go enjoy the ball. Dance with each other, talk to other people, have fun. And try to remember that you actually like each other when you’re not competing for my attention.”
He reached out and brushed his fingers along Daphne’s jaw, then did the same to Fleur. Both witches leaned into the touch despite themselves.
“You really are terrible,” Daphne murmured, but there was less venom in it now.
“Absolutely,” Harry agreed. “But you knew that when you got involved with me.”
Fleur made a sound that might have been agreement or frustration. “You are enjoying zis far too much.”
“Probably,” Harry admitted. “But can you blame me? You’re both stunning, you’re both brilliant, and you’re both so similar it’s actually hilarious that you spend so much time arguing.”
“We are nothing alike,” both witches said simultaneously and then glared at each other.
“Keep telling yourselves that,” Harry chuckled. “Now go, dance, mingle. I have my own date to attend to, and she’s probably already causing trouble at the refreshment table.”
He kissed each of them quickly, not giving them time to respond, and slipped away before they could organize another protest. Behind him, he heard Daphne and Fleur muttering to each other, their voices fond yet exasperated, and Harry smirked. His plan might actually be working.
Regina was exactly where he’d left her, holding two glasses of what looked like champagne and watching the dance floor with obvious interest.
“That went well,” she remarked as Harry rejoined her.
“Define well.”
“They only threatened you verbally. No actual hexes were thrown. I call that a win.”
Harry accepted one of the glasses and took a sip. The champagne was good, probably imported from France specifically for the ball. “They’ll come around.”
“Or they’ll murder you in your sleep,” Regina said cheerfully. “Either way, it should be entertaining to watch.”
The ball continued around them, music and laughter filling the enchanted space. Harry found himself actually relaxing into the evening, enjoying the spectacle without the pressure of champion duties hanging over him.
At least until it was time for the champions’ dinner.
The head table had been set up in a smaller adjoining room, intimate enough to encourage conversation but formal enough to maintain the dignity of the occasion. Dumbledore sat at the head, his blue eyes twinkling as he surveyed the assembled champions and their dates. Madame Maxime took up an enormous amount of space, her massive frame somehow elegant despite its size. Karkaroff sat as far from Harry as the table arrangement allowed, his expression sour.
Notably absent was Bartemius Crouch Senior. In his place sat Percy Weasley, looking absurdly pleased with himself in formal robes that were probably the nicest thing he owned.
“Mr. Potter,” Percy said pompously as Harry and Regina took their seats. “I’m here representing the Ministry in Mr. Crouch’s absence. He’s unfortunately been called away on urgent business.”
“Fascinating,” Harry said without any real interest. He’d interacted with Percy only a few times over the past three years and found him to be exactly as insufferable as his reputation suggested.
Daphne and Fleur arrived moments later, and Harry had to admit they’d recovered their composure remarkably well. Both wore expressions of cool elegance, though he caught the slight tightness around Fleur’s eyes. She was still annoyed.
The seating arrangement put Harry between Regina and Cedric, with Daphne and Fleur across from him. Percy was positioned near Dumbledore, probably so the headmaster could keep him from embarrassing himself too badly.
“So, Mr. Potter,” Percy began as the first course appeared, “I understand you’ve been having quite the eventful year. Champion at such a young age, must be quite the honor.”
“Must be,” Harry agreed neutrally, focusing on his soup rather than Percy’s self-important expression.
“Of course, some might question the validity of your selection,” Percy continued, apparently oblivious to Harry’s lack of interest. “Given the restrictions that were supposedly in place. But I’m sure the headmaster had his reasons for allowing it to stand.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled slightly, but he didn’t comment.
“I’m sure he did,” Harry said. “Though I notice you’re speaking in generalities rather than actually accusing me of anything. Worried about libel, Percy?”
Percy’s face reddened slightly. “I merely meant that some in the Ministry have expressed concerns about the irregularity of the situation.”
“And yet here I am, still competing,” Harry replied easily. “Almost like those concerns were addressed and found to be without merit. Strange how that works.”
Regina made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh. Across the table, Daphne’s lips were curved in a small smile.
“Well, yes, but,” Percy sputtered slightly, “the point is that standards must be maintained. Rules exist for a reason, and when they’re circumvented, even for supposedly good reasons, it sets a dangerous precedent.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Harry said seriously. “Which is why I’m sure you’ve been equally vocal about addressing the numerous other irregularities in the Ministry. The bribery, the corruption, the Death Eaters who bought their way out of Azkaban. I imagine someone as concerned with standards as yourself has been working tirelessly to fix those problems.”
The silence that followed was delicious. Percy’s face had gone from red to an unhealthy purple, and several of the other adults at the table were clearly struggling not to laugh.
“That’s, that’s entirely different,” Percy managed finally.
“Is it?” Harry asked innocently. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems like you’re very concerned with rules when they apply to a wizard forced into a competition against his will, but oddly silent about actual crimes committed by wealthy pureblood families. Almost makes one wonder about your priorities.”
Madame Maxime was definitely smiling now, her massive hand covering her mouth to hide it. Even Karkaroff looked vaguely amused, though his expression soured when he caught Harry’s eye.
“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore interjected gently, “perhaps we should focus on more pleasant topics of conversation.”
“Of course, Headmaster,” Harry said agreeably. “My apologies to Percy. I’m sure he’s doing the best he can with his limited position and even more limited authority.”
Percy made a choking sound that made it clear he’d caught the insult even if it took him a moment to process it fully. The glare he directed at Harry was impotent and rather pathetic.
Regina leaned close to Harry, her voice pitched for his ears only. “You’re cruel. I love it.”
The rest of the meal passed in relative peace, with Percy wisely choosing to focus his attention on Dumbledore rather than risk further verbal sparring with Harry. Karkaroff maintained his sullen silence, occasionally shooting dark looks in Harry’s direction that Harry returned with bland disinterest.
By the time the dinner concluded and they returned to the main hall, the ball was in full swing. The dance floor was packed, the music louder, and the general atmosphere significantly more relaxed now that the formal portions of the evening were complete.
Harry had barely stepped onto the floor with Regina when he noticed something interesting happening across the room.
Several young wizards were approaching Daphne and Fleur, clearly working up the courage to ask one or both of them to dance. Harry watched with growing amusement as each attempt was smoothly rebuffed, not by the witch being approached, but by her companion.
A Ravenclaw seventh year approached Fleur, only to be intercepted by Daphne with a cool smile and some comment that had the boy backing away quickly. Moments later, a Slytherin Harry recognized from the year above tried his luck with Daphne, only to have Fleur step in with a devastating smile and a few words in rapid French that left the wizard looking simultaneously aroused and terrified.
“They’re protecting each other,” Regina observed with delight. “Oh, this is wonderful. Your plan is actually working.”
Harry had to agree. Whatever animosity had existed between Daphne and Fleur seemed to have transformed into something else, a partnership born of shared irritation and mutual defense against unwanted attention.
He watched as another hopeful suitor approached, this one a Hufflepuff who looked barely old enough to be at the ball. Daphne and Fleur exchanged a quick look, something passing between them, then both turned to the poor boy with identical expressions of polite disinterest. He fled without even attempting his invitation.
“They’re enjoying this,” Harry said, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice.
“Of course they are,” Regina replied. “They get to work together instead of against each other, they get to feel superior to all the wizards who aren’t you, and they get to bond over their shared situation. It’s perfect.”
The music shifted to something slower, and Harry pulled Regina closer as they moved into the new rhythm. She molded herself against him without hesitation, her body fitting perfectly into his as they swayed together.
“You know,” Regina murmured, her lips close to his ear, “watching you manipulate people into getting along is oddly arousing.”
“Is it manipulation if it’s for their own good?”
“Absolutely,” Regina confirmed. “But that doesn’t make it any less hot.”
Harry was about to respond when Regina suddenly pulled back, her eyes glinting with mischief as she looked at something over his shoulder.
“Well, well,” she said with obvious delight. “This should be interesting. I’ll leave you to it.”
Before Harry could ask what she meant, Regina had slipped away from him with a knowing pat on his back, disappearing into the crowd of dancers. Harry turned, confused, and found himself face to face with none other than Susan Bones.
She looked stunning in a dress of deep burgundy that complemented her red hair beautifully. The cut was conservative enough to be appropriate but fitted enough to showcase curves that Harry was fairly certain had developed significantly since the last time he’d seen her properly.
“Harry,” Susan said, her voice carrying a warmth that her earlier interactions with him had lacked. “Care to dance?”
Harry blinked, genuinely surprised. “I’d be lying if I said I expected you to ask me for a dance tonight.”
Susan’s smile was quick and genuine, transforming her face from merely pretty to genuinely beautiful. “What, did you think I’d hold a grudge forever? I’m not that petty, Potter. Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t spend the entire evening with that smug look on your face.”
“That’s just my face,” Harry protested as he took her offered hand and pulled her into the dance.
“No, it’s really not,” Susan countered, settling into his arms with surprising ease. “You’ve been looking entirely too pleased with yourself all evening. It’s insufferable.”
They moved together smoothly, Susan following his lead without any of the hesitation Harry had half expected. She was a good dancer, confident in her movements and comfortable with the proximity the waltz required.
Harry found himself very aware of how she felt in his arms. The dress she wore might have been conservative by ball standards, but it did nothing to hide the generous curves beneath. Her breasts pressed against his chest as they turned, soft and full. Her waist felt small under his hand, the curve of her hip moving against him in a way that was definitely affecting his concentration.
“You’re staring,” Susan observed, though she didn’t sound particularly offended.
“You look good,” Harry said bluntly. “Can’t blame me for noticing.”
“I suppose I can’t,” Susan agreed, and was that a slight flush on her cheeks? “You clean up well yourself. Though I’m surprised you’re not dancing with either of your actual dates. Yeah, some of us notice.”
“Regina insisted I needed a break,” Harry replied. “Something about not monopolizing my attention all evening. And Daphne and Fleur are currently engaged in the fascinating activity of rebuffing every wizard who tries to approach them.”
Susan glanced over and her lips curved into a smile. “I noticed that. They’re actually working together. Given what many have heard about their interactions so far, I’d say that’s surprisingly mature of them.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. They’re capable of cooperation when properly motivated.”
“And what motivation did you provide, exactly?”
Harry’s grin was unrepentant. “Trade secret.”
The music shifted slightly, drawing them into a closer hold. Harry felt Susan’s body press more fully against his, the softness of her curves molding to his harder frame in a way that sent heat pooling low in his gut. He could smell her perfume, something light and floral that suited her.
Susan seemed to notice his reaction, though she didn’t pull away. “I wanted to apologize,” she said quietly, her earlier playfulness fading into something more serious. “For everything you’ve gone through since being selected as champion. I know I was harsh about it initially, and that wasn’t fair.”
Harry studied her face carefully, searching for any sign of insincerity. Susan met his gaze steadily, her brown eyes clear and honest.
“I appreciate that,” Harry said finally. “Apology accepted.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Harry confirmed. “Life’s too short to hold grudges over misunderstandings. Besides, you weren’t entirely wrong to be suspicious. The whole situation was irregular.”
“But not your fault,” Susan pointed out. “I should have recognized that sooner. Everyone should have.”
They continued dancing, the conversation lapsing into comfortable silence. Harry noticed how perfectly Susan fit against him, how her breathing matched his, and how her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder when he guided her through a particularly complex turn.
“I received a letter from my aunt recently,” Susan said suddenly, her voice pitched low enough that only Harry could hear over the music.
Harry’s interest sharpened immediately. “Did you?”
“She mentioned that you’d agreed to help with a certain family matter,” Susan continued, her eyes fixed on his face. “Something about taking care of a problem that’s been plaguing us for years.”
Harry was genuinely surprised. He hadn’t expected Amelia to bring Susan into this, hadn’t anticipated that the younger Bones would be aware of her aunt’s plans for revenge.
“I didn’t realize you were in the loop on that particular operation,” Harry said carefully.
Susan’s eyes flashed with something that might have been irritation. “Don’t make assumptions about me without knowing me properly, Potter. I’m not some delicate flower who needs to be protected from unpleasant truths. That bastard tortured my… You think my aunt wouldn’t tell me when she finally found a way to make him pay?”
The vehemence in her voice was genuine and raw, and Harry found himself reassessing Susan Bones entirely. She wasn’t the naive Hufflepuff he’d half dismissed. There was steel beneath the soft exterior, anger that burned just as hot as her aunt’s.
“You’re right,” Harry admitted. “I apologize for the assumption. I truly don’t know you well enough to make judgments.”
Susan stared at him for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. The music changed again, drawing them into an even more intimate arrangement. Their bodies were pressed flush together now, Harry’s thigh slipping between hers as they moved, her breasts soft against his chest, her hips rolling against him in a way that was definitely deliberate.
“Maybe it’s not too late for that,” Susan whispered, her lips close enough to his ear that her breath ghosted across his skin. “To get to know each other, I mean.”
Harry’s runes flared with sudden intensity, the magic responding to the heat building between them. He had to suppress a hiss as arousal spiked through him, his body responding to Susan’s proximity and clear invitation.
Susan looked up at him through her lashes, her brown eyes dark with desire. “Perhaps after you’ve taken care of our little problem, we could spend some time together. Get properly acquainted.”
Before Harry could respond, Susan pulled back slightly, creating just enough distance to be proper while maintaining the dance. The smile on her face was knowing as she stepped out of his arms, the song having ended without Harry quite registering it.
“Thank you for the dance, Harry,” Susan said, her voice carrying back to its earlier warmth. “It was enlightening.”
She walked away with a deliberate sway to her hips that proved she knew exactly what effect she’d had on him. Harry watched her go, his body still thrumming with arousal and his mind racing to process what had just happened.
Regina appeared at his side almost immediately, pressing herself against him with obvious intent. Harry felt his erection pressing into her stomach and her smirk widened into something positively feral.
“Well, well,” she purred. “The little Hufflepuff has claws. I’m impressed.”
“The entire family is something,” Harry muttered, still watching Susan’s retreating form.
“That they are,” Regina agreed. “Susan Bones just went from boring background character to genuinely interesting. I wonder what other surprises she’s hiding under that innocent exterior.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you’re hard,” Regina countered bluntly. “Which means that whatever she whispered to you was very effective. Care to share?”
Harry pulled her back into the dance, needing the movement to work through the lingering arousal Susan had sparked. “She implied we might get to know each other better after I deal with Augustus Flint.”
Regina’s eyes lit up with genuine delight. “Oh, that’s delicious. Amelia Bones offers herself as payment for murder, and now her niece is making similar implications. That family really does take care of their own.”
“Seems that way.”
They moved together smoothly, Regina’s body molding to his as they swayed to the music. Her hand slipped down his back, lower than was strictly appropriate, her fingers tracing patterns that made his runes hum with approval.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Regina asked, her voice pitched low and intimate.
“What?”
“You’re going to end up in bed with two generations of Bones women. Amelia and Susan, and probably that auror as well. That’s quite the accomplishment.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. “Your mind goes to the strangest places.”
“Strange but accurate,” Regina countered, grinning. “I can see it already. The Bones family tradition of using sex to motivate their chosen assassin. It’s actually kind of beautiful in its own twisted way.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You like me anyway,” Regina said smugly, and she wasn’t wrong.
They continued dancing as the ball wound down around them, the evening growing late and the crowd thinning. Harry caught glimpses of Daphne and Fleur throughout, noting with satisfaction that they seemed genuinely comfortable with each other now, their earlier antagonism transformed into something warmer.
When the last song finally played, Harry and Regina made their way back to where Daphne and Fleur waited. Both witches looked tired but relaxed, their earlier fury having dissipated into something closer to resigned amusement.
“Did you two have fun?” Harry asked innocently.
“More zan expected,” Fleur admitted. “Though I still intend to make you suffer for zis.”
“We’ll discuss your suffering later,” Daphne added. “After you’ve fulfilled your promise about our reward.”
Regina laughed openly. “Oh, this is going to be a wonderful end to the evening. Can I have the first go?”
“No,” both Daphne and Fleur said simultaneously.
“Spoilsports,” she pouted.
They made their way back to the room together, the castle quiet around them as students filtered back to their dormitories. Harry felt an odd sense of anticipation settling over him.
He’d succeeded in his goal for the evening. Daphne and Fleur had spent an entire evening together without killing each other, had actually worked together, and had bonded over their shared situation. Progress, he’d take it.
And if the evening also resulted in promises from Susan Bones and further confirmation that the entire family was far more complex than they appeared, well, that was just an added bonus.
TBC.