Chapter 70: Fourth Day of Winter Break
– Harry Sitri –
I woke with a mouthful of crimson hair.
Not metaphorically.
One of Rias’s absurdly long locks had worked its way across my face during the night and settled directly between my lips. I spat it out carefully, blinking against the pale morning light filtering through the curtains around her four-poster bed.
Then Rias shifted against me. Her naked body was curled tightly along my side, warm skin pressed against mine from chest to thigh. Her head rested over my heart, one arm lay possessively across my stomach, and her right leg was hooked over my hips as if she expected me to attempt an escape during the night.
The memories returned all at once.
The video games. The drinking. Runeas cheating whenever she started losing. Akeno murdering everyone with friendly fire. Hermione reading instruction manuals as if our lives depended upon mastering the precise mechanics of a racing game.
Then Rias waiting until everyone had fallen asleep. Her red lingerie. Her nervousness beneath all that confidence. The way she had looked at me when she asked me to take her virginity. The way she had whispered that I belonged to her.
I tightened my arm around her without thinking. Rias made a soft sound against my chest and snuggled closer. Her breasts pressed against my side as she slowly awakened.
“Morning,” I murmured.
“Mmm.” Her fingers flexed against my stomach. She opened one blue eye, looked up at me, and smiled. It had none of the practiced elegance of the Gremory heiress or the confident seduction she used whenever she wanted to make my brain stop working. This one was soft, sleepy, and entirely mine. “Good morning, my fiancé,” she whispered.
“Good morning, my terrifyingly possessive fiancée.”
Her smile became a cute pout. “I am not terrifyingly possessive!”
“You told me I belonged to you at least twelve times.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I was caught up in the moment.” Rias attempted to stretch and immediately winced.
I stopped smiling. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine.” She shifted her hips experimentally beneath the blanket and sucked in a small breath. “I may be slightly sore,” she conceded. “You were… considerably more than I had prepared myself for.”
“I was careful.”
“You were.” Her expression softened. “You were perfect.” She reached up and touched my face. The playful confidence in her eyes briefly faltered. “Do you regret it?” she asked.
The question was so quiet I almost missed it.
I rolled onto my side and pulled her closer, one hand settling against the small of her back. “Do I regret making love to the woman I’m going to marry?”
Rias’s gaze flickered away. “The engagement was arranged before we had even met. Last night made everything more real.”
“It was already real to me.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
“I loved you before last night,” I said. “I loved you during it, and I still loved you when I woke up with your hair in my mouth. I don’t regret anything.”
Her eyes glistened. Before I could comment on it, she grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me. It started slowly, but Rias rarely did anything by halves. Within seconds, her lips were moving hungrily against mine and her naked body had pressed even closer. She pulled away reluctantly. “The engagement feels like mine now,” she whispered. “Not my brother’s arrangement. Not something negotiated between families. Mine.”
“Ours.”
“Ours,” she agreed. She kissed me again.
A loud snore came from somewhere across the room.
We both slowly turned our heads.
The destruction left behind by the previous night looked considerably worse in daylight.
Empty bottles and glasses covered the low table. Sweet wrappers, crisp packets, and several overturned bowls surrounded the couches. Game controllers lay scattered across the carpet like casualties from an especially pointless war.
Hermione was asleep on one couch with her face buried in Akeno’s chest.
Akeno had one arm wrapped loosely around Hermione’s shoulders, apparently having decided at some point that my Bishop made an excellent stuffed animal. Her white blouse was partially unbuttoned, and Hermione’s cheek rested directly against the generous amount of cleavage the opening revealed.
Runeas remained facedown on the carpet with her backside raised, her cheek pressed against a cushion, and a controller clutched in one hand.
I looked back at Rias.
She stared at me in horror. “Oh, Satan,” she whispered.
“We forgot they were here...” I pointed out.
“I did not forget!”
“You didn’t?”
“I decided I did not care.”
“That sounds more accurate...” I chuckled.
Rias pulled the blanket over her head.
Hermione stirred. Her brow furrowed as she pressed her face more deeply into Akeno’s breasts. “My pillow is breathing,” she mumbled.
Akeno’s lips twitched.
Hermione’s eyes opened. She stared directly into the open front of Akeno’s blouse. There was a long silence. “Oh.” Hermione very carefully lifted her head. She looked down at Akeno, then touched her own cheek as if confirming what she had been using as a pillow.
Akeno continued pretending to be asleep.
Hermione turned toward the bed. Her gaze moved from my face to the discarded remains of Rias’s red lingerie, then to the mound beneath the blanket currently attempting to impersonate an embarrassed Gremory burrito.
Understanding dawned. “Oh,” Hermione said again, in an entirely different tone.
Rias pushed the blanket down far enough to expose her eyes. “Good morning, Hermione...”
Hermione’s gaze narrowed. “Are you all right?” Hermione ignored me and focused on Rias. “Are you sore? Do you need a healing charm? I have several appropriate potions in my bag.”
Rias slowly emerged from beneath the blanket. “I am a little sore,” she admitted. “But I am also very happy.”
Hermione studied her face for several seconds. Whatever she saw made the tension leave her shoulders. “Good.” She stood, straightened her rumpled jumper, and crossed to the bed. Rias clutched the blanket against her chest as Hermione leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Congratulations,” Hermione said quietly.
Rias looked surprised. “Thank you…?”
Hermione then turned toward me. “You,” she said.
“Me.”
“Proper aftercare includes water, breakfast, rest, and ensuring Rias does not have to face her entire family alone this morning!”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because your idea of aftercare usually involves getting distracted by another beautiful woman before lunch.”
“That only happened twice.”
“Four times.”
“Were you keeping records?”
“I keep records of everything.”
Akeno opened one violet eye. “It was actually five times,” she said.
Rias snatched a pillow and hurled it across the room.
Akeno caught it without moving anything except one hand. “Ara, ara. Good morning, Rias.”
“You were awake this whole time?!”
“I am awake now.”
“You know what I meant!”
Akeno sat up, causing the barely fastened buttons of her blouse to strain dangerously. Akeno’s teasing expression softened. “I’m happy for you too,” she said. Akeno crossed the room. She knelt beside the bed, reaching for Rias’s hand. “I truly am happy for you,” she said. “You chose this. You chose him.” Akeno squeezed her fingers. “I may be a little jealous,” she admitted. “But I love you, Rias. I wanted your first time to be with someone who treated you like you were the most important woman in the world.”
Rias looked at me before returning her attention to Akeno. “He did.”
“Good.” Akeno smiled again, although this one contained far less mischief. “Of course, I expect my turn eventually.”
Hermione groaned. “It is far too early in the morning for sex negotiations.”
Akeno leaned forward and hugged Rias around the shoulders. After a brief hesitation, Rias returned it with one arm while keeping the blanket secured with the other.
Something shifted on the floor. Runeas sat upright so abruptly that the controller flew from her hand and struck the wall. “Who won?” she demanded.
No one answered.
Runeas looked around the room. Her crimson twin tails stuck out at mismatched angles, and a sweet wrapper was attached to her cheek. Her gaze landed on the bed. She sniffed once. Then twice. Her pink eyes widened. “Rias has completed the sacred Gremory courtship ritual!”
Rias made a strangled noise. “There is no sacred courtship ritual!”
“There should be!”
Runeas sprang to her feet with absolutely no sign of a hangover. “We need a banner!”
“We do not!”
“A tapestry!”
“No!”
“A fertility toast!?”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
Runeas placed both hands on her hips. “At minimum, the newly consummated couple must perform a ceremonial ride around the estate on Camey-chan.”
Rias’s eyes went blank. “...If that camel comes within fifty feet of my bedroom,” she said calmly, “I will erase it from existence.”
Runeas gasped in horror. “You would threaten the sacred camel guardian after surrendering yourself to the glory of the hump?”
The pillow Rias threw this time disintegrated halfway across the room.
Runeas ducked beneath the drifting feathers. “Such passion!” she declared. “You truly are my descendant.”
“I am going to kill her,” Rias muttered.
“You’ll have to get out of bed first,” I pointed out.
She elbowed me in the ribs.
Runeas rushed toward the door. “I must tell the family!”
“No!”
Rias tried to leap from the bed. Her feet touched the carpet, her legs trembled, and she immediately started to collapse.
I caught her around the waist before she hit the floor.
The room went quiet.
Rias’s face turned a shade of red that matched her hair. “I am fine,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Of course you are.”
“I can walk.”
“I’m sure.”
“Put me down.”
I lifted her into my arms instead.
Hermione covered her mouth, failing to hide her smile.
Akeno did not bother trying.
Runeas looked delighted. “The traditional post-courtship leg weakness! The old ways remain alive!”
Rias buried her face against my shoulder. “I hate this family.”
“No, you don’t,” Akeno said gently.
Rias sighed. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t.”
A knock came before Runeas could leave. The door opened. Grayfia stepped into the room carrying a tray of hangover potions in one hand and a neat pile of clothing over her opposite arm. Her gaze swept across the devastation. The empty bottles. Hermione’s rumpled clothing. Akeno’s open blouse. Runeas’s hair. Rias sitting naked in my lap beneath a blanket. Me sitting naked beneath Rias.
Grayfia did not react. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning, Grayfia,” I answered as if this was all perfectly fine and normal.
Rias stared at the floor nervously.
Grayfia placed the tray on the table. “Lady Venelana has requested everyone’s presence at breakfast in twenty minutes.”
“Tell Mother I’m ill,” Rias muttered.
“I already informed her that you may be experiencing some discomfort this morning.”
Rias’s head snapped up. “You told her?”
“Your mother had already reached the correct conclusion. Lady Venelana also asked me to inform you that she won the wager.”
Rias went still in my lap. “...What wager?”
The teleportation circle deposited Hermione and me inside Sitri Manor’s receiving chamber in a burst of pale blue light.
The instant my shoes touched the polished marble floor, I released a breath I felt like I had been holding since breakfast began.
Hermione stepped off the circle beside me, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “I think that went rather well,” she said.
I stared at her. “Crom spent the entire meal imagining my corpse…”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“He was carving a steak while staring directly into my eyes…”
“He may simply have been hungry.”
“He whispered, ‘Onee-sama deserves better,’ while he did it...”
Hermione’s lips twitched. “That does make the innocent explanation somewhat less convincing.”
Breakfast at Gremory Manor had been one of the most painfully awkward experiences of my life, and I had once watched Dudley receive a handjob while driving through central London.
Venelana had looked unbearably pleased with herself after winning the family wager. Zeoticus had congratulated Rias and me without making eye contact with either of us. Sirzechs had spent most of the meal crushing his silverware while pretending he was perfectly calm. Grayfia had served Rias a cushion without comment.
That had nearly killed me.
Akeno had whispered increasingly obscene advice into Rias’s ear until Rias threatened to destroy her breakfast. Runeas had repeatedly demanded permission to commission a commemorative tapestry. Rias had refused, which only encouraged her ancestor to begin describing possible designs in horrifying detail.
Then Rias had kissed me goodbye in front of everyone.
Crom’s fork had snapped in half.
“I’m serious,” I said. “That dragon wants to murder me.”
“He adores Rias.”
“So do I.”
“I suspect that is the source of the conflict...” Hermione finished.
I glanced back at the teleportation circle as its light faded. “Could breakfast have gone any worse?”
Hermione considered the question. “Camey-chan could have attended.”
I shuddered. “Point taken…”
A soft throat-clearing sound came from the chamber entrance.
One of my grandmother’s senior maids waited there with her hands folded neatly in front of her black-and-blue uniform. She had silver hair arranged in a severe bun and the expression of a woman who had already judged both of us for arriving several seconds before she expected us.
“Young Master,” she said with a precise bow. “Lady Selene requires your presence in her office immediately.”
Of course she did. I had been back in Sitri territory for less than a minute. “Did she say what this was about?”
“No, Young Master.”
“Did she look angry?”
The maid hesitated for just long enough to concern me. “Lady Selene looked like Lady Selene.”
That was somehow worse.
Hermione adjusted the strap of her enchanted bag. “I’ll leave you to it. I need to check on Asia and—”
“Lady Selene requested the presence of Young Master’s first Bishop as well.”
Hermione immediately stopped trying to escape. Her posture changed. The amused girlfriend vanished, replaced by the frighteningly focused witch who had memorized several centuries of devil political history for fun. “Did Lady Selene mention whether we should bring anything?”
“Only yourselves.” The maid turned and started down the corridor. The maid led us through the manor’s eastern wing and stopped outside Grandmother’s office. The carved double doors opened before she could knock, responding to Selene’s magic from within. “...Lady Selene is waiting.”
I thanked the maid and entered with Hermione beside me.
Serafall was sprawled dramatically across one of the couches.
She wore her full Magical Girl Levia-tan costume, complete with star-patterned tights, white boots, a dangerously short skirt, and enough pink frills to bankrupt a lesser noble family. Her cheeks were puffed out, her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, and one foot kicked irritably behind her.
Grandmother sat behind her desk, calmly reading a document. She did not appear remotely affected by Serafall’s performance.
Serafall spotted me. Her pout deepened. “My baby’s innocence was stolen!”
Hermione stopped beside me.
I closed my eyes. “Mum...”
Serafall sprang off the couch and pointed at me accusingly. “That sneaky Gremory seductress waited until everyone was asleep and stole my precious little Harry’s innocence!”
“I haven’t been innocent for months...”
“Exactly!” Hermione muttered.
Serafall ignored her. “Rias took advantage of my sweet, sheltered baby boy!”
“I was not taken advantage of.”
“Did she wear red lingerie?”
I paused.
Serafall gasped. “She did!”
“How did you know that?”
“Rias is predictable!”
Grandmother lowered the parchment. “Serafall, whatever innocence Harry once possessed was stolen by you long before Rias Gremory had the opportunity.”
Serafall went perfectly still. Then she pressed her hands against her cheeks, wiggled her hips, and made several breathy magical-girl noises that I desperately wished I could erase from my memory. “Kyaa~! Mother, you make me sound so naughty!”
“You are naughty,” Grandmother replied flatly.
Serafall looked at me and grinned. It was not a maternal grin.
Heat immediately crawled up the back of my neck.
Hermione noticed. Her eyebrow slowly rose.
Grandmother pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sit down, Harry.”
I sat in one of the chairs before her desk. Hermione claimed the chair beside mine.
Serafall moved toward me.
Grandmother pointed at the couch without looking.
Serafall’s shoulders slumped. “But I want Harry’s lap.”
“Couch.”
“Mum—”
“Now.”
Serafall dragged herself back to the couch and collapsed across it like a fallen heroine in the final act of a tragic play.
Grandmother returned her attention to me. “We are not here to discuss you deflowering the Gremory heiress.”
I inhaled incorrectly and nearly choked on my own tongue.
Hermione slapped my back.
“How do you already know that?” I demanded once breathing became possible again. “We just returned!”
“Venelana contacted me before breakfast ended.”
I stared at her. “Why?”
“To congratulate our united families, and to boast that she had won some kind of family wager.”
Serafall shot upright. “There was a wager on when Harry and Rias would fuck? Why wasn’t I allowed to bet?”
No one answered her.
“...Regardless, this is why I called you to my office.” Grandmother slid a heavy cream-colored envelope across the desk. Its edges were decorated with gold fire, and the seal showed the crimson bird of House Phenex.
I picked it up. The parchment remained warm beneath my fingers.
“The request was directed specifically to Harry Sitri,” Grandmother continued. “Not to the head of House Sitri, its heiress, or Satan Leviathan. Riser Phenex and his younger sister will be stopping by in less than an hour to see Harry. Although the reason why was not stated in the letter…”
Serafall raised her hand.
Grandmother ignored her.
Serafall waved it more vigorously.
Grandmother continued ignoring her.
“MOM!” Serafall whined.
Selene sighed. “What?”
“Maybe Ravel wants to marry Harry!”
I stared at Serafall. “Why would that be your first conclusion?”
Serafall began counting on her fingers. “You’re gorgeous, Ultimate Class, a Sitri prince, the son of a Satan, related to the current Sitri heiress, engaged to the Gremory heiress, and you have Ophis following you around asking for cuddles.”
“That doesn’t answer the question!”
“It completely answers the question!”
Grandmother gave Serafall a warning look. “Do not invent political engagements before our guests arrive…”
“I’m not inventing one. I’m predicting one.”
I looked back at my grandmother. “What did the request actually say?”
“That the matter was personal, urgent, and concerned Ravel’s future.”
“...That’s it?”
“The Phenex family declined to place anything further in writing. That suggests sensitivity,” she said. “Possibly something they fear could be intercepted or later used against them.”
“Or a marriage proposal,” Serafall sang.
“Enough,” Grandmother said.
Serafall mimed locking her lips.
Grandmother folded her hands. “There are several possibilities. Ravel may be facing an unwanted arrangement. She may wish to transfer to Hogwarts. The Phenex family may seek Sitri support after the goblin attack on their territory. Riser may wish to formally resolve the life debt created during that battle.”
“He gave me Phenex Tears afterward,” I said.
“Such debts are rarely considered settled so easily between noble heirs…”
I frowned at the warm envelope.
Riser and I were not friends. He was arrogant, crude, and had spent an entire walk through a massacred village asking whether I had slept with his former fiancée. I had wanted to drown him at least three times before the goblins attacked.
Then we had fought back-to-back.
He had continued fighting after being stabbed with holy silver. I had saved him. He had saved me. Together, we had destroyed the village once we knew there was no one left to rescue.
When the battle ended, he had given me one of his family’s precious healing tears despite being injured himself.
That did not make him pleasant. It did make him someone I respected more than I wanted to admit.
Grandmother stood. “Harry, change into formal Sitri clothing and return in forty minutes.”
“Riser has seen me shirtless, covered in blood, and carrying goblin organs in my hair.”
“That makes proper clothing more necessary, not less.”
I looked at Hermione for support.
Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. “Your grandmother is correct.”
“Traitor.”
“I prefer competent adviser.”
Grandmother turned toward Hermione. “You will sit beside Harry during the meeting.”
Hermione nodded.
“If he becomes reckless, intervene.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sitting right here!” Neither of them acknowledged me.
Grandmother shifted her attention toward Serafall. “You will remain silent unless directly addressed.”
Serafall gasped. “That’s cruel.”
“It is necessary.”
“I’m one of the Four Great Satans!”
“You are also incapable of allowing a conversation to proceed for ten minutes without proposing sex, violence, or televised musical combat.”
“I have other interests…”
“Name one.”
Serafall opened her mouth. Nothing emerged.
Grandmother pointed toward the door. “Forty minutes.”
Hermione took my hand and pulled me out of the office before Serafall could remember another interest. We walked in silence until the doors closed behind us. Then Hermione exhaled. “You are not accepting another fiancée without discussing it with the rest of us.”
I looked at her. “So you do think that’s why they’re coming?”
“I think we need to be prepared for the possibility.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Yes.” The immediate answer surprised me. Hermione stopped and turned to face me. “I love you,” she said. “Of course I become jealous when another beautiful woman may be arriving to ask for a permanent place in your life. Being willing to share you does not mean I’ve stopped wanting you for myself.”
I drew her closer.
“But,” she continued, placing both hands against my chest, “Ravel is also reputed to be intelligent, politically capable, and considerably more sensible than her brother. If she is in trouble, we listen before making assumptions.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“I occasionally am.”
I kissed her forehead.
Hermione selected a formal black suit with deep-blue trim from my wardrobe. While I changed, she stood nearby reading the Phenex request again. The moment my shirt came off, her attention wandered. I caught her looking. She rose onto her toes and kissed me...
…We returned to Grandmother’s office with four minutes remaining.
Serafall had changed costumes. The new outfit was apparently her interpretation of formal magical-girl attire. It had more black and silver than usual, but the neckline plunged far enough to make the word formal completely meaningless.
Grandmother looked like she had decided that continuing to argue would only shorten her immortal life.
Hermione and I sat together.
Serafall claimed the couch and crossed her legs, bouncing one boot with poorly concealed impatience.
The office clock ticked once. Twice. Precisely on the hour, a knock came at the door.
One of the senior maids entered. “Lady Selene, Lord Riser Phenex and Lady Ravel Phenex have arrived.”
“Show them in.”
The maid bowed and stepped aside.
Heat entered the room before the Phenex siblings did.
Riser wore a dark crimson formal jacket with gold embroidery across the shoulders. His blond hair had been combed back, and for once, there was no arrogant smirk on his face.
Ravel walked beside him. She wore a cream-and-gold dress that matched the Phenex colors without resembling combat armor or ceremonial robes. Her blond hair fell in carefully styled curls, and her blue eyes moved across the room before settling on me.
She looked composed. Her hands did not. They were clasped so tightly in front of her that her knuckles had gone pale.
Riser bowed first to Grandmother, then acknowledged Serafall with a more formal inclination of his head. Finally, he looked at me. “Sitri.”
“Phenex.”
Grandmother indicated the open chairs. “Please sit. Refreshments will be brought shortly.”
Riser remained standing. “No refreshments.”
Ravel glanced at him, but she did not object.
Whatever this was, Riser wanted to address it immediately. He met my eyes. “This isn’t about me, Sitri,” he said. “It’s about my sister.”
Ravel’s fingers tightened in her lap.
I studied her more carefully.
She was genuinely cute. Her blonde hair fell in carefully arranged curls, framing a delicate face with bright blue eyes. She was a little short, particularly when standing beside her brother, but the cream-and-gold dress she wore emphasized a surprisingly curvy figure. Her breasts were large, high, and distracting enough that Hermione subtly pressed one finger against my leg.
Right. Eyes up.
Ravel was nervous. The meeting request had described the matter as personal, urgent, and concerning her future. Serafall had predicted a marriage proposal, and Ravel looked like someone preparing herself to ask a deeply uncomfortable question.
I understood. It was better to stop this before she embarrassed herself.
I raised one hand. “Ravel, before you say anything, I should apologize.”
Her lips parted.
I continued before she could interrupt. “You seem lovely, but I’m afraid I already have too many women in my life. I care about all of them, and I’m struggling to give everyone the attention they deserve. I can’t accept another fiancée without discussing it with my family first.”
Ravel stared at me.
Riser stared at me.
Hermione slowly covered her face.
Serafall leaned forward with fascinated delight.
“I hope you understand,” I added.
“M—Marry you?” Ravel squeaked. “I am not here to ask to m—marry you!”
Riser’s chair scraped against the floor as he surged halfway to his feet. “YOU ARROGANT BASTARD!”
Grandmother’s eyes narrowed.
Riser noticed, forced himself back into his seat, and settled for glaring at me. “We did not come here to offer you Ravel. A shameless playboy like you does not deserve my sister!”
This came from a man whose peerage was almost entirely composed of beautiful women he regularly slept with.
I opened my mouth. Hermione kicked my ankle beneath the desk. I closed it again.
Serafall looked deeply disappointed. “So there’s no marriage proposal?”
“NO!” Ravel exclaimed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
Serafall sank back into the couch with a sigh. “This meeting is already less interesting.”
Grandmother pointedly cleared her throat.
Hermione lowered her hand from her face and offered Ravel an apologetic smile. “Please forgive Harry. His life has conditioned him to expect increasingly improbable romantic complications.”
“That sounded like a very polite way of calling me a slut.”
“I was trying to be diplomatic.”
“You succeeded.”
Hermione turned her attention to Ravel. “What happened?”
Ravel glanced toward Riser. He gave her a curt nod.
She inhaled slowly. “I need Lord Sitri’s help rescuing my boyfriend from his family.”
I blinked. That was unexpected but considerably less alarming than another engagement. “Why me?”
“Because my boyfriend is your cousin.”
I stared at her.
Ravel’s cheeks began turning red. “...Dudley Dursley.”
I choked on absolutely nothing. “WHAT?” The word came out loudly enough to make the office windows vibrate.
Serafall sat bolt upright. “GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!?” I could see a huge grin on her face, like she just heard the greatest gossip of her entire life.
Grandmother’s eyebrows rose by a fraction, which was the Sitri matriarch’s equivalent of falling out of her chair.
“Dudley?” I demanded. “My Dudley?”
“How many cousins named Dudley do you possess?” Riser asked.
“One, but that isn’t the point.”
Serafall clasped both hands beneath her chin. “DUDLEY-TAN HAS A DEVIL GIRLFRIEND!?”
Ravel’s blush spread to her neck.
“Mum,” I warned.
“WHAT? IT’S ADORABLE!”
“How did this happen?” Hermione asked. Unlike me, she sounded calm. Her voice was soft enough that some of the tension left Ravel’s shoulders.
Ravel adjusted her skirt and looked down at her hands. “After Lord Sitri’s true nature was revealed to the Dursleys, they forbade Dudley from contacting him.”
My amusement vanished. “What?”
“His parents intercepted your letters. Dudley told me you wrote to him five or six times, but they refused to let him answer.”
I leaned back in my chair. I had assumed Dudley wanted nothing to do with me. After Petunia learned I was magical, she had cut off every avenue of communication. My letters returned no answer. Dudley had no magical education, so ordinary post had been my only option.
Apparently, Petunia and Vernon had taken that too.
Ravel continued carefully. “His parents told him that devils were monsters. They said your mother had deceived you, that you were being corrupted, and that contacting you would bring evil into their home.”
Serafall made an innocent whistling noise and inspected the ceiling.
Grandmother looked at her. “What did you do during your last visit to the Dursleys?”
“Nothing…”
“Serafall.”
“I may have explained what would happen if they mistreated Harry again.”
I glanced at her. “You shook their house with your aura.”
“Only a little…”
“You threatened to freeze Vernon Dursley’s reproductive organs from the inside.”
“He was being rude!”
Ravel watched Serafall with wide eyes. “That explains several things Dudley mentioned.”
“It does not explain how he met you,” I said.
Ravel’s embarrassment returned. “Dudley did not entirely believe his parents. He said that if you were a devil, then devils could not all be evil.”
Something tightened beneath my ribs. “He said that?”
“Yes.” Ravel’s expression softened. “He went to the local library and began researching occult practices. Most of the books were useless, but he found an old volume containing several genuine devil summoning circles.”
“How did a Muggle library get one of those?” Hermione asked.
“The book was published by a magician who had formed contracts with several noble houses during the nineteenth century. Most of the circles were obsolete, but one belonged to House Phenex.” Riser folded his arms. “Our family stopped monitoring that particular circle decades ago.”
“I occasionally checked it,” Ravel admitted. “I was curious about human summoners.”
Serafall grinned. “And lonely.”
“I was not lonely!”
“You checked a century-old summoning line attached to a Muggle occult book.”
Ravel lifted her chin. “I was curious!”
“Curiously lonely.”
“Serafall,” Grandmother said.
Serafall mimed locking her lips again.
“Dudley chose the Phenex circle because it was shaped like a bird,” Ravel continued. “He said it looked less evil than the others.”
That sounded like Dudley.
“He copied it onto his bedroom floor with chalk and activated it. I answered.”
Hermione leaned forward. “What did he ask you for?”
Ravel shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“He stared at me for nearly a minute. Then he apologized for wasting my time and offered me tea.”
I pictured Dudley standing in his bedroom, staring at a beautiful devil noblewoman who had just appeared inside a flaming summoning circle. “What did you do?”
“I accepted.”
“Of course you did…” Riser muttered.
Ravel ignored him. “We talked for almost two hours. He knew very little about magic, devils, or the supernatural world. He asked whether I collected souls and whether touching holy water would make me explode.”
Serafall nodded thoughtfully. “Reasonable beginner questions.”
“He also asked about Harry,” Ravel said.
I looked at her.
“He wanted to know whether becoming a devil had hurt you. He wanted to know if you were safe and whether your new family treated you well.”
My throat tightened. “What did you tell him?”
“That you appeared extremely safe. I also explained that you were a born devil rather than a reincarnated servant…”
“And that my baby is loved by everyone,” Serafall added.
Dudley and I had never been particularly good at talking about how we felt. We made jokes, drank beer, watched football, and insulted one another. That was as close as we usually came to openly acknowledging we cared. Apparently, he had been worried about me the entire time.
“He summoned you again?” Hermione asked.
“The next afternoon,” Ravel said softer. “He claimed he had more questions...”
Riser snorted.
Ravel’s blush returned. “...He summoned me nearly every day for the next month.”
Serafall made a delighted squealing sound.
Ravel pressed on before she could be interrupted. “We talked. Dudley told me about boxing, university, his family, and growing up with Harry. He did not excuse how he treated Harry when they were children.”
I looked up. “He spoke about that?”
“Frequently. He carries a great deal of guilt.”
Dudley had apologized before. Not elegantly, but sincerely.
Ravel smiled faintly. “He is coarse. He swears too much, has terrible table manners, and initially believed noble devils lived inside volcanoes.”
“I blame his parents for the last one.”
“But he is kind to me,” she continued. “He listens when I speak. He does not care that I am a Phenex heiress. He does not ask about my dowry, my family connections, or what political advantage marrying me might provide.”
Riser’s expression tightened.
“He makes me laugh,” Ravel said. “And he is very large.”
I blinked.
Hermione coughed into her fist.
Ravel’s blush deepened toward crimson. “I prefer large men...”
Riser closed his eyes like he was experiencing physical pain. “Please stop describing the human’s size in front of me.”
“I meant his general build! …He boxes,” Ravel said defensively. “He is broad and physically powerful.”
Serafall leaned toward me. “Apparently the Dursley bloodline has something going for it.”
“MUM!”
“What?”
Ravel straightened in her chair. “I want Dudley to become my Rook.”
That silenced the room again.
“...You have your own Evil Pieces?” I asked.
“I received them when I reached High Class.”
Riser grunted. “She has yet to use any.”
“I had not met anyone I wanted.” Ravel looked at me with surprising resolve. “Dudley is strong, durable, and protective. A Rook piece would suit him. I want to train him properly and give him the ability to stand beside me.” Her voice softened. “I also want him as my boyfriend.”
“Huh,” I said.
Ravel’s confidence faltered. “Is that a problem?”
“No. I’m happy for him.” I meant it.
Dudley had spent his childhood as spoiled, overweight, and cruel. He had grown into a massive boxer who was still rough around the edges but had learned to apologize and care about someone beyond himself. Now he had somehow summoned a beautiful devil heiress and convinced her to make him part of her peerage.
Good for Dudley.
Riser scowled. “The human is not worthy of my sister.”
Ravel’s head snapped toward him!
“However,” he continued quickly, “he could potentially become less unworthy after several decades of strict training.”
Ravel’s expression softened.
That was apparently the most enthusiastic approval Riser was willing to provide.
“If everything was going well,” Hermione asked, “what changed?”
Ravel’s hands tightened again. “His parents found the book.” The warmth disappeared from the conversation. “Vernon entered Dudley’s room while the summoning circle was active,” she explained. “Petunia was with him. They realized Dudley had been speaking to me.”
Serafall’s smile vanished.
“Vernon called me a demon and accused me of corrupting his son.”
“That sounds like Uncle Vernon.”
“He had a shotgun,” Ravel said. “Dudley tried to stand between us,” Ravel continued. “Vernon pushed him aside and fired.”
Riser’s power surged. Golden flames rippled across his shoulders before Grandmother’s wards pressed them back.
The shotgun blast would have killed an ordinary person. Ravel touched herself unconsciously where the pellets had struck. “My Phenex regeneration healed the wounds immediately, but Dudley was terrified. Vernon tried to fire again. I destroyed the weapon.”
“You should have destroyed him,” Riser growled.
“Dudley begged me not to hurt his father.”
Riser’s lip curled, but he did not interrupt.
“I could feel myself losing control,” Ravel admitted. “I was frightened that I would kill Vernon if I stayed. Dudley asked me to leave and promised he would contact me once his parents calmed down.” Ravel shook her head. “I have not heard from Dudley in four days. I believe his parents destroyed the book and confined him somewhere.”
“Why didn’t you go back?” Serafall asked.
“I wanted to. I stood outside the house twice, but I was afraid.” Ravel looked ashamed of the admission. “I was afraid Dudley had been hurt because of me. I was afraid his parents might have involved the Church or created some kind of trap. And I was afraid that if Vernon attacked me again, I would burn him alive.”
“That would be understandable,” Serafall said.
“Serafall…” Grandmother warned.
“Still understandable…”
Ravel glanced toward her brother. “I asked Riser to come with me…”
“And I refused,” Riser said. Riser leaned forward. “I refused because the fat human shot my sister.” Golden fire flickered behind his eyes. “If I enter that house, Vernon Dursley will burn. His wife will probably burn when she starts screaming at me. Their home will burn, and the fire may spread to their neighbors.” He looked directly at me. “Ravel does not want that.”
“No,” she whispered.
“I also do not approve of this human,” Riser continued. “He is crude, uneducated, and lacks any worthwhile bloodline.”
“He’s my cousin,” I said.
“That proves nothing in his favor!”
I almost laughed.
Riser’s expression remained serious. “But Ravel wants him. She has never asked our family for anything like this before.” He looked toward his sister. Something protective and unexpectedly gentle passed through his face. “I want her to be happy.”
Ravel’s eyes glistened.
Riser immediately looked away. “Since the human is your cousin, Sitri, you will fix this!”
There was the Riser I knew.
Grandmother’s mouth twitched.
I looked at Ravel.
She appeared desperate, frightened, and exhausted. She had probably spent four days imagining every possible thing Vernon and Petunia might do to Dudley.
The thought of returning to their house made my stomach tighten.
I remembered Petunia screaming about freaks. Vernon’s temper. The cupboard beneath the stairs in our former home. The years when Dudley treated me like a punching bag because his parents encouraged him.
But I also remembered my nineteenth birthday. Dudley banging on my bedroom door. The football tickets. The bar. His clumsy apology after revealing that our family had hidden the magical world from me. He had changed. More importantly, he had tried.
I squeezed Hermione’s hand before releasing it. “I’ll help.”
Ravel stared at me. “You will?”
“Dudley is my family too.”
Her composure shattered. “THANK YOU!” She stood so quickly that her chair rocked backward. She took two steps toward me, stopped as if uncertain whether hugging me would be appropriate, then bowed deeply instead. “Thank you, Lord Sitri.”
“Please, just call me Harry.”
She straightened. “Thank you, Harry.”
Serafall sprang off the couch. “I’m coming too!”
“No,” Grandmother said. “You are the primary reason the Dursleys are terrified of devils.”
Serafall skidded to a stop. “They were terrified of magic before they met me.”
Grandmother gave her a flat look.
“...Fine. I’ll stay here.”
Grandmother did not look convinced. “...Behemoth will supervise you.”
Serafall gasped. “You don’t trust me?”
“No.”
“I know someone else who should come,” I spoke up, everyone looked at me. “My Queen.”
Serafall’s eyes lit up.
“She has history with Petunia,” I said. “And Dudley is technically her nephew…”
Ravel looked confused.
Riser frowned. “Your Queen is related to the Dursleys?”
“Complicated reincarnation situation,” Serafall explained cheerfully. “Lilja used to be Lily Evans.”
Ravel’s mouth fell open.
Riser stared at me for several seconds. “Your reincarnated… mother… is also your Queen?”
“...Yes.”
“And Satan Leviathan is your other mother…?”
“...Yes…?” Even by Devil standards, I knew it was strange…
Riser rubbed both hands across his face.
I closed my eyes and reached for the bond connecting me to my Queen. Lilja?
Her answer came almost immediately. Harry? What happened?
Grandmother’s office. I need you.
Silver-blue magic flashed beside the desk less than ten seconds later. Lilja appeared wearing black leggings, boots, and a dark training shirt clinging to her body. Her red hair was tied in a long braid, and a practice sword remained strapped across her back.
She surveyed the room.
Her eyes lingered briefly on Riser before settling on Ravel’s frightened expression. “What happened…?”
One repeated explanation later…
Lilja looked down at herself. Her fitted training shirt clung to her body, darkened around the collar and beneath her breasts from sweat. Several strands of red hair had escaped her braid and stuck to the sides of her face. She had apparently come directly from a training session the moment I contacted her.
“I need a shower,” she announced.
Ravel blinked. “...Now?”
“I am not confronting my sister while smelling like an Asgardian barracks.”
“Former sister,” Serafall corrected from the couch.
Lilja gave her a flat look. “Petunia will find some way to turn exercise sweat into a moral failing. I refuse to provide her with ammunition.”
That sounded disturbingly plausible.
Her expression softened slightly before she disappeared in a flash of silver-blue light.
Riser pushed himself out of his chair. “I should return to Phenex territory.”
Ravel looked toward him. “You’re leaving already?”
“If I remain here, I may decide to accompany you.” Golden fire briefly danced around his fingers. “And we have already established why that would be unwise.”
Ravel rose and hugged him.
Riser went rigid. For someone surrounded by women constantly, he appeared surprisingly incapable of dealing with innocent affection from his younger sister. After a moment, his arms came around her with awkward care.
Riser released her and turned toward me. “If anything happens to my sister—”
“She can regenerate from almost anything.”
His eyes narrowed. “I am more concerned about emotional harm.”
That surprised me enough to erase the joke forming in my head.
Riser glanced toward Ravel. “She has never cared for anyone like this before. Do not allow those humans to humiliate her.”
“I won’t.”
“And do not attempt to seduce her.”
“I already told her I have too many women!”
“You stared at her breasts.”
Hermione cleared her throat beside me.
I decided silence was the wisest response.
Riser extended one hand. After a brief hesitation, I clasped it. Golden heat rolled across my skin. “Bring her back safely, Sitri.”
“I will.”
He released me, stepped into a flaming Phenex circle, and vanished.
The office became noticeably cooler.
Hermione slid her notebook into her enchanted bag at her waist. Wait? When did she pull that out? Why was I not surprised she was taking literal notes of the meeting… “I’ll collect anything you might need and meet you in the teleportation chamber before you go.”
“No,” Grandmother said.
Hermione stopped.
Grandmother had already returned to the documents on her desk. “I require your assistance here, Hermione.”
Hermione frowned. “With what?”
“A detailed account of Harry’s visit to Gremory Manor.”
I stared at her. “You already know about Rias and me...”
“That is not the part of the visit that concerns me.”
Serafall raised her hand. “I would still like more details about that part!”
Grandmother ignored her. “I want to know everything you observed concerning Runeas Gremory’s awakening, the abilities of her camel, Ophis’s undetected arrival, and the conversation surrounding Ophis’s intentions toward Harry.”
Hermione’s expression sharpened. “Rias explained the courtship boundaries she wanted Ophis to follow.”
“I want those boundaries documented.”
“Why?”
“Because Ophis is one of the most powerful beings in existence. If she intends to attach herself to this family, I would prefer to understand what she currently believes that means!”
That was reasonable. It was also less entertaining than the possibility that Grandmother simply wanted breakfast gossip.
…Ravel and I left the office together. Ravel wisely chose not to comment about anything she heard regarding me having sex with Rias or about Ophis. Or maybe Ravel didn’t hear anything, all her thoughts focused on Dudley instead…
She walked beside me in silence, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her thumbs rubbed anxiously across one another as we passed through the manor’s central corridor.
“Lilja won’t take long,” I assured her.
Ravel glanced toward a clock mounted between two tall windows. Then she checked the time on her wrist. Then she looked toward the clock again.
“You’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep doing that.”
“I have spent four days wondering whether Dudley is hurt.”
“I understand.”
“I keep imagining increasingly terrible possibilities.”
I did understand that. Waiting while someone I cared about was missing had never made me calmer. “Would you like a quick tour?” I asked.
Ravel looked at me. “A tour? Of what? Your home?”
“Lilja needs a few minutes. We’re already standing inside one of the largest noble estates in the Underworld. It might distract you. Maybe you can see how it compares to the Phenex estate.”
She hesitated. “I suppose I could go for a walk. Sitting still is making my thoughts worse,” she admitted.
“Then come on.” I led her through the manor. The central wing had been designed around a network of narrow indoor waterways. Clear blue streams ran alongside the marble corridors, passing beneath delicate bridges and through walls engraved with silver runes.
Ravel paused beside one of them. “The water carries magic?”
“It supplies most of the manor’s wards. It also handles cooling, heating, purification, communication, and probably twelve other things Hermione could explain better than I can.”
Ravel watched a small school of silver fish swim against the current. “Phenex Manor has fire channels,” she said. “Not actual open flames everywhere, obviously. They carry heat and family magic through the estate.”
“That sounds safer than open flames everywhere.”
“You would think so. My brother once overloaded one during training and set an entire guest wing on fire...”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
“No. We’re Phenexes…”
Fair enough…
We continued through a portrait corridor.
Generations of Sitri family members watched us from enchanted frames. Several greeted Ravel politely. One ancient woman with blue hair looked her up and down, nodded approvingly, and returned to reading.
Another portrait contained a younger Serafall wearing a formal noble dress.
The painted Serafall spotted me. “HARRY!”
I kept walking.
“HARRY! COME BACK! I’M LONELY!”
I kept walking…faster.
Ravel laughed. It was small, but some of the tension finally left her shoulders.
I showed her one of the smaller libraries, the doors leading toward the training grounds, and a glass display case filled with Magical Girl Levia-tan merchandise.
Ravel stopped in front of a Cassium figure. The miniature version of me wore black armor with most of the chest missing and held a dark-blue sword above his head. “Is that you?”
“No...”
“It has your face.”
“An unfortunate coincidence…”
She examined the label. “‘Limited Cassium: Forbidden Lover Edition?’” Ravel picked up the box and turned it around. “The back says it includes a removable shirt and interchangeable romantic-expression pieces.”
I gently took it from her and returned it to the shelf. “We should keep moving…”
Her smile lingered as we left the display behind.
Then music reached us.
I stopped.
A gentle piano melody drifted through the corridor. The playing was delicate and unhurried, each note flowing into the next like water moving across smooth stones. It sounded old-fashioned without being unfamiliar, carrying a quiet sadness that made the enormous manor seem suddenly still.
Then a woman began to sing.
Ravel stopped beside me.
The voice was breathtaking. It was clear, soft, and almost angelic, yet something deeper lived beneath it. The sound reminded me of moonlight across an endless sea—a beautiful invitation concealing depths too vast to measure.
A decorative stream beside us rippled. The water moved with the melody.
My demonic core responded with a faint pulse.
Ravel looked toward me. “Is the singing enchanted?”
“I don’t know.”
That was not entirely true. I could feel something inside the song. It was not an attack or deliberate spell. The magic seemed as natural to the singer as breathing.
We followed the music. The melody led us toward a sitting room in the family’s residential wing. Its double doors had been left open.
Ingvild sat behind a polished grand piano. Her long purple hair spilled down the back of a pale-blue dress. Her eyes remained closed as her fingers moved across the keys. Morning light entered through the tall windows and painted the side of her face in gold.
Daphne, Tracey, and Astoria sat nearby. All three wore casual clothes rather than Hogwarts uniforms. Daphne occupied an armchair with her usual perfect posture, while Tracey sprawled sideways across a couch. Astoria sat cross-legged on a cushion beside the piano.
Ingvild reached the final verse. Her voice climbed effortlessly, pure and aching. The indoor fountain in the corner rose several inches higher, droplets hanging in the air like tiny glass stars.
Then the last note faded. The water fell. Silence lingered for several seconds.
Tracey began clapping first.
Astoria joined immediately, smiling brightly.
Daphne applauded with more restraint but equal sincerity.
“That was extraordinary,” Daphne said.
“It was beautiful,” Astoria added.
Tracey leaned over the back of the couch. “You could make an obscene amount of money singing professionally.”
Ingvild’s eyes opened. Her face turned pink. “I am terribly out of practice.”
“You were asleep for a century,” Tracey said. “I think that qualifies as a reasonable excuse.”
“I missed several notes.”
“Then the correct notes might kill someone.”
Ingvild ducked her head. Her smile was shy but genuine.
Tracey noticed us in the doorway. Her gaze moved from me to Ravel. A wicked grin spread across her face. “Harry found another cute girl.”
Daphne turned.
Astoria looked over her shoulder.
Ingvild’s eyes lit up when she saw me.
“No,” I said immediately. “Ravel is a friend.”
Tracey’s grin widened. “That is how it always starts.”
“She’s dating my cousin.”
Ravel’s face turned crimson.
Daphne looked between us. “Your cousin? Your Muggle cousin?” Her tone came dangerously close to offense.
Ravel stiffened. “Dudley is stronger and kinder than most noble devils I have met!”
Daphne blinked.
“He is also loyal, protective, and willing to admit when he has done something wrong,” Ravel continued. “His lack of magical ancestry does not make him unworthy of me!”
The room became awkwardly quiet.
I understood Daphne’s reaction. She had spent her entire life surrounded by pureblood traditions, even while being victimized by them. That did not mean I would let the comment pass. “Magical blood didn’t make Yaxley, Nott, or Macnair decent men,” I said.
Daphne flinched. “No,” she said quietly. “It did not.” She looked directly at Ravel. “You’re right. That was rude of me. I apologize.”
Ravel’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
Astoria rescued the conversation. “What is Dudley like?”
Ravel sat on the edge of an empty chair. “He is a boxer.”
Astoria’s eyes widened. “A professional?”
“Not yet. He studies at university and competes.”
“He’s huge,” I added.
Ravel’s cheeks flushed again. “He is large.”
Tracey propped her chin on one hand. “Nice! How large is he packing down there?”
“Tracey,” Daphne warned.
Tracey looked entirely unrepentant.
Ingvild watched her with quiet fascination. “Relationships between humans and devils were rare when I was young,” she said. “At least openly.”
“They still aren’t common,” Ravel admitted.
Ingvild glanced toward Daphne, Tracey, and Astoria. “Choosing someone for kindness rather than their bloodline sounds wonderful.”
Ravel’s expression softened. “It is.”
Ingvild turned toward me. “Did you come to spend time with me?” The hopeful question struck directly through my chest.
She had only been awake for several days. In those days, she had learned that nearly everyone she knew was dead, the political world she remembered had vanished, and she had been adopted into an unfamiliar family for her own protection.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have to help my cousin.”
Disappointment flashed across her face before she hid it. “Oh.”
“It shouldn’t take long!”
“I understand….” The quiet acceptance made me feel worse.
I crossed the room and crouched beside the piano bench. “In a few days, all of us are going to France. You’re coming too.”
Ingvild looked at me. “I am?”
“Of course. You’re family.”
Her expression brightened hearing that.
“We’ll have plenty of time together. You can choose what we do.”
“I do not know anything about modern France…” she admitted.
“Neither do I. Fleur and Gabrielle can show us around.”
Ingvild glanced toward the piano keys. “Could I sing for you again? I would like to try singing on one of the beaches…”
I smiled gently at the girl lost out of time. “You can sing for me whenever and as long as you want.”
Her smile returned. “Then I would like that...”
I took her hand and squeezed it gently.
Someone entered the room behind us. “I leave for fifteen minutes and Harry has already promised another beautiful woman unlimited private serenades. Lilja stood in the doorway. She had changed into dark trousers, a cream blouse, and her long charcoal coat. Her red hair remained slightly damp from the shower and had been gathered into a loose braid over one shoulder.
She looked incredible. That was not unusual. Lilja could have worn an old sack and still made it seem like sacred Valkyrie battle attire.
Tracey openly stared.
Ravel did too.
Lilja noticed and smiled. “I’m ready.”
Ingvild rose from the piano bench. “You are leaving with Harry?”
“For a little while.” Lilja crossed the room and kissed Ingvild’s forehead. “I expect another song when we return.”
Ingvild blushed. “You heard me?”
“From halfway across the manor.”
“...Was I too loud?” Ingvild asked nervously.
“You were magnificent!" The compliment deepened Ingvild’s blush. Lilja turned toward Ravel. They had technically met in Grandmother’s office, but the circumstances had not allowed for a proper introduction. “Ravel Phenex, nice to meet you,” Lilja said.
Ravel stood. “Lady Lilja.”
“Just Lilja.”
Ravel hesitated. “Were you truly Lily Evans?”
Lilja’s expression shifted. “I carry her soul and memories. But I am Lilja now.”
Ravel nodded carefully. “Dudley speaks fondly of his Aunt Lily, even though he never met her.”
Pain flickered through Lilja’s green eyes. “I intend to correct several lost opportunities today.”
She extended her hand.
Ravel accepted it.
“I will not allow Petunia or Vernon to keep Dudley from you,” Lilja promised.
“Thank you.” Ravel sounded steadier than she had before.
Ingvild’s music had calmed her. Lilja’s presence gave that calm something solid to rest upon.
I looked toward the girls. “We’ll return as soon as we can.”
Astoria wished us luck.
Daphne told Ravel she hoped everything ended safely.
Tracey asked us to bring Dudley back so she could personally determine whether his size justified Ravel mentioning it so often.
Ravel turned bright red again…
XXX