Harry has defeated Voldemort and saved all the people he cares for, so why do they all hate him? More importantly, what will he do about it? This chapter once again bounces the stories rating up t...
Chapter Eleven: Boxing with Fate
The Great Hall was remarkably quiet, even given that it was breakfast time and not typically a good time of day for teenagers. There were a smattering of students at the Ravenclaw table, mostly from the younger years but Harry noticed Luna sitting by herself, as usual, towards the far end of the table. The other three house tables were fairly full of students stoking their boilers for the upcoming day of classes. But Harry focused his concentration on Luna.
He knew he would have to keep an eye on her, especially in her dorm, in case her dorm mates were foolish enough to try something in retaliation. Another visual recorder was out of the question; he would need more immediate warning and he had no desire to be a Peeping Tom to a bunch of fifteen year old girls. What he needed was some tripwire wards set up around her room as well as on her person. His hand went up to the talisman he wore around his neck. That was a possibility, but he doubted he could get Luna to agree to a blood ritual and that would certainly drive Dumbledore over the edge.
Dumbledore; that was another question Harry needed to address. Last night the Headmaster had been very close to sacking him, Harry had dared him to in fact, and Harry just wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had sought to come to Hogwarts for one reason and one reason only: to free Sirius, and now that was done. Sirius was a free man once again and Harry had even addressed the problem of how Luna was being treated, so why was he still here? What purpose did his presence serve? His understanding of the two timelines told Harry that Voldemort would likely be defeated in around four or five years, whether he was here or not. His involvement was pointless and he had no ties to this world so why was he still here? Wasn't it time to move on?
On the other hand, where would he go? He had a little money left from Vernon and Lucius but hardly enough to last him with no other income. He couldn't go into the muggle world because he had no skills there or any way to get them. So, he could either kill himself again or remain in the wizarding world. Neither option seemed too appealing at the moment. What he needed was someone to talk to, to confide in, not all of his secrets mind but his ambivalence to remaining here. But who?
Harry snorted as he considered confiding in Dumbledore; he could just imagine how that conversation would go: 'Hello Headmaster, I'm an inter-dimensional time traveler and I'm a bit confused as to what my future holds?' That would certainly get a reaction! Harry would be locked up faster than you could say 'Bob's your uncle', either in St. Mungo's or, worse, in a room here in Hogwarts, waiting for a time when Stumblemore could exploit him just like his other two unusual and possibly useful human toys: Snape and Trelawney. If asked, Harry was sure the Headmaster would say that those two were here as much for their own protection as anything. After all, Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to torture either one should he find out the truths they carry, but Harry had no intention of being another trinket in the old man's collection. So the question remained, who could he talk to?
Perhaps Narcissa? No, he obviously couldn't tell her that he deliberately killed her husband, or even how he came to this world, but perhaps he could talk to her about his mixed feelings and lack of direction; her Slytherin nature might give him exactly the insights he needed. He took out a quill and a small piece of parchment and began to write his note:
If you are free this weekend perhaps we could get together? An early dinner and then, if you wish, we could see a play in the West End? I would appreciate the chance to spend some time talking with you.
Harry looked around the room at the owls that had begun appearing to deliver their mail until he saw one of the school's owls complete its mission. With a look and a summoning crook of his finger, the owl leapt from the Hufflepuff table and glided over to rest beside him. He fed the bird a few pieces of sausage then asked if it was up for another delivery. With a hoot, the owl raised its leg and Harry tied on his note.
"Please take this to Narcissa Malfoy," he quietly told the bird and watched as it pumped its powerful wings to rise up through the open windows at the ceiling of Great Hall.
At this point, his attention was drawn to the doors as he noticed Cho Chang entering. Her ears were still pointy and a detached portion of Harry's brain noted that they would have looked rather elven and decidedly cute if it weren't for the hair growing from them. Her snout of a nose detracted from the look as well, he saw. She was carrying a huge stack of parchment in her arms and her bag was slung over her shoulder. As she headed down the Ravenclaw table towards Luna, Harry hurriedly cast an eavesdropping charm. He kept his wand in his hand as he intently waited to see what was going to happen.
"Umm, Luna, could I speak with you for a minute?" Cho asked, the ream of parchment clutched tightly to her chest. Luna only looked up at her and blinked, once, very slowly.
Cho shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose that I owe... You see... It's like this..." The nervous Korean witch ran a finger across her forehead, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear. She stiffened her back, as if expecting to be rebuked, and continued. "Over the years, when I was doing my assignments in the common room and ran out of parchment, instead of going back to my room and getting more, I took some of yours. It wasn't right. I didn't ask to borrow it and I never returned any. I was wrong and I shouldn't have done it. I want to apologize to you for what I did. Here..." she held out the pile of papers to the younger girl. "I don't rightly know how much I might have taken but I think it couldn't have been more than this." Luna took the stack and placed it beside her plate. She looked up at the other girl curiously and slowly blinked once again. Cho shifted under the gaze some more and reached into her school bag. "I might have taken a quill or two as well," she said holding out a fistful of them. "I'm really sorry and I promise I won't do anything like that again."
"All right," Luna said quietly.
Cho turned and looked over her shoulder at the people around the hall, many of whom were staring back; her face began to flush red with her embarrassment. "I reckon I ought to be heading out to class now." She turned to leave but was stopped by Luna's hand on her arm.
"Cho?" she asked.
"You'll have to take notes in class, it is your NEWT year after all and I know you want to do well. Do you have any parchment?" Cho looked confused for a moment then slowly shook her head. "Would you like to borrow a few sheets?"
Cho hesitated, not knowing if this was a test of some sort and not knowing how to answer if it was. Finally, with a blush on her cheeks she said, "May I, please?"
"Of course," Luna answered. "Do you need a quill perhaps as well?"
Cho only nodded as Luna handed over the items with a small smile. "You only had to ask."
Cho smiled as she wiped at her eyes. "Thank you, Luna. Thank you very much."
"You're welcome," Luna said simply. "Now I heard some papyrus-munching gnomes moving about earlier, if you are going anywhere near the dungeons I would be careful of them."
Cho could only look at the younger witch for a moment before mumbling, "I'll be sure to watch out for them," and taking her leave.
Harry observed the exchange with a wide grin on his face and a strange feeling growing in his chest as he watched Cho struggle with her ego but then succeeding and doing the right thing. He felt strangely proud... yes, he was proud of how she managed to face her mistakes and make them right. Why would he feel that?
He took a look down the staff table to see how the others were reacting and noticed that, although the opposite end of the staff table was quite full, his side was completely empty except for him. He chuckled at this, if they thought that this sort of thing would make him uncomfortable then they didn't know nearly as much as they thought. He had grown up being shunned and despised so, as long as they weren't throwing knives at him, he couldn't care less how they felt. He chuckled again as he placed his napkin on the table and rose to leave. He had more important things to do than waste his time on this nonsense; he had to use the loo before his first class began.
The day passed quietly, what with the students too afraid of him to speak except when directly questioned and the staff apparently too angry with his pointing out their faults to come anywhere near him, and Harry was quite content to just let it be. At dinner he noticed that Cho's nose and ears had returned to normal and many of her housemates were stopping by to chat about it. Luna was once again sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ginny, where Harry noticed some questioning glances shot at the girl and then up at where he sat at the staff table all alone once again. The staff had evidently decided to eat in shifts so that they only had to populate one half of the table, the half he wasn't sitting at. Harry still couldn't care less and decided to remain at the table, lingering over his tea, until Luna finished and left the room.
The next day, Friday, at breakfast Harry noticed that Luna was wearing matching socks and several times throughout the meal her eating was interrupted as people gave her stacks of parchment, quills and chocolate by the case. When it obviously became too much to carry, Cho recruited three first years to carry the bulk of it up to her room. Harry smiled as a sixth year boy held the door for her as she left to go to class. He turned to smirk at his fellow faculty members but as he turned towards them they all studiously looked away. Harry shook his head and gathered his things. By the end of the day, almost all of the Ravenclaws were back to normal. A few still sported snouts or ears but Harry assumed that would straighten itself out in time, and a few more owl deliveries from home. The two notable exceptions were Priscilla Barnes and Melissa Malone, the two Prefects caught in the act by Harry's recording charm. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of either sow since his confrontation with the staff Wednesday night.
Saturday morning dawned bright, with a crisp nip to the air hinting that autumn was just around the corner and winter close at its heels. Harry slept through breakfast, having had patrol duties the previous night, and left the school before lunch began. Narcissa had replied that she would meet him later this afternoon and Harry had no intention of allowing his fellow teachers to spoil the anticipation he felt.
He appeared in the Leaky Cauldron and ate an early lunch before wandering into Diagon Alley to spend a few hours window shopping before heading to the Berkshire to meet Narcissa. The Alley was pleasantly busy for a weekend but lacked the hustle and bustle of a truly busy day. People walked quickly down the lane, going into this shop or that to get what they needed, never slowing or looking around other than to avoid bumping into each other. It was like a rainstorm was quickly approaching and no one wanted to get caught out in it if it came early.
Harry thought about his purse for a moment, he had enough muggle money with him for his plans and so didn't bother going to Gringotts. He walked past Flourish and Blotts as well, he doubted that they would carry the types of books he was interested in reading right now. He turned away from the boarded up front of Ollivander's shop and paused before Quality Quidditch. Some things never changed and Harry found himself staring at the display of brooms. He managed to maintain his dignity by not pressing his nose up against the glass but his attention was drawn to the Firebolt hanging there with the price tag reading 'Serious Inquires Only'. His broom was still the standard by which all others were measured; if he only still had it that was. Harry had appeared in this world with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the wand in his hand. His broom, the Marauder's Map, even his father's invisibility cloak had all been left behind. He wondered idly if the James Potter of this world, he couldn't bring himself to think of the man as his father, still used it, and if the twins had passed on the map to a new generation of mischief makers.
Right below the Firebolt was a display of the latest broom from Nimbus, the XP. Harry noticed that there were two versions displayed. The basic version looked to have a more comfortable seat and the foot pegs were lower, making it easier to ride but increasing drag. The XP Professional was far sleeker; its handle nearly straight and the footpegs high and tucked in to streamline it in flight. Harry entered the shop to pick up a new copy of 'Which Broomstick' as well as make a serious inquiry. He left the shop calculating how little of his muggle money would be left if converted enough to Galleons to cover the cost of the Firebolt. The XP Professional was half the cost of the Firebolt but Harry didn't know how good a broom it was. Still, having a Firebolt once again would be nice.
Harry suddenly realized how much he missed flying. The last time he had flown, aside from his non-broom flight from the Astronomy Tower that had brought him into this world, had been a wide ranging, flying firefight with Death Eaters. Ron and Hermione were disillusioned on Ron's Cleansweep, and using the invisibility cloak to boot. Hermione clutching Hufflepuff's cup to her side while she squeezed her eyes shut and held on to Ron for all she was worth. They were flying low and trying to avoid notice while Harry flew his Firebolt in a series of diving attacks on the group of Death Eaters that had tracked them down. Harry's fingers twitched as he recalled jinking his broom hard to avoid the incoming spells while firing Incendios and Reductos back. Ron and Hermione escaped while Harry killed three and knocked two more from the sky. He stumbled back into Grimmauld Place twelve hours later to the frantic tears of Hermione, and he brought a prisoner with him. Draco Malfoy was used to destroy the cup, the last Horcrux before the final battle.
Harry's fingers clenched as his pulse sped with the remembered thrill of battle. He had been sitting around too long. He needed to be doing. His business with Luna had been fun but ultimately not satisfying. He needed to be doing, not plotting. He walked down the Alley not paying attention to where he was going when he bumped into someone hurrying in the opposite direction. Both men clutched at each other to keep from falling.
"Hey! Watch where yer goin'!" the stranger snarled.
Harry was about to apologize when recognition struck. It was Walden Macnair, Ministry Executioner for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Death Eater. Whatever apology Harry would have made died on his lips as he remembered the fight in the Department of Mysteries where Macnair had been captured in his timeline. The Death Eater only glared at Harry's lack of response and pushed past him into Knockturn Alley.
Harry grinned a cruel grin, thinking that Macnair might have escaped capture this time but he still likely carried the Dark Mark. Glancing at his watch, Harry turned to follow his new-found prey.
Harry wasn't sure why he was following the dark wizard, he didn't want to get involved in the war, but he couldn't seem to get the vision of the man's furious face from his third year out of his mind. He had wanted to kill Buckbeak and had been cheated out of it. The man was a killer, whether of men or beasts, and Harry stalked him now to turn the tables. He watched as the Death Eater entered Borgin & Burkes. Harry leaned into the shadows of a building as he watched the shop. Draco Malfoy had the second of the pair of Vanishing Cabinets still in that store, he recalled. Harry wondered idly why they didn't move it to Malfoy Manor or one of Voldemort's other hideouts instead of leaving it in a shop on Knockturn Alley. Wouldn't it have made more sense to keep the working half protected while trying to fix the broken one? Harry recalled the conversation he partially overheard that day so long ago. Draco had threatened the shopkeeper not only with his father's anger but also that of Fenrir Greyback. That is what had cowed the shopkeeper then, the werewolf not the wizard. But why leave this cabinet exposed?
Harry's musings were cut short by a wand being jabbed into his ribs.
"'Ere now, what'er yer follerin' me for, eh?" said a firewhiskey laden voice from the air in front of him.
'Invisibility cloak,' Harry thought to himself. Moody had two of them so it made sense that the Death Eaters would have some as well. He wanted to squirm under the pressure of the wand but held himself back.
"I asked you a question, nice and proper like, and I expect an answer," the voice repeated.
Harry plastered a sneer across his face as he raised his hand up and grasped the cloak in front of him. With a tug, the hood fell revealing the pockmarked face of Walden Macnair.
"I was hoping to see you enter a charm school, however I suppose I'm to be disappointed," Harry drawled in his best impersonation of Lucius Malfoy.
He was in luck, his stab at angering Macnair worked beautifully. The snarling wizard drew back his wand to fire a curse when Harry took advantage of it no longer being pointed directly at his heart to act. He spun into the Death Eater, knocking the wand further off line and throwing all of is weight behind his right shoulder as it collided with the Death Eater. Macnair was thrown into the brick wall of the building they were huddled against, ruining his spell. Harry immediately spun in the opposite direction and brought his left hand up in a hook to Macnair's cheek. The force of the blow was muted by their arms being tangled but that kept Macnair from throwing another hex. Harry shoved the Death Eater into a rubbish bin and, as Macnair stumbled, he drew his wand.
Harry's spell rebounded up into the air. Harry began to fire a second time when he was shoved hard from behind and fell to his knees. Harry spun to face this new attacker when a violet flash flew past his head and struck the cobblestones behind him. He rolled to his feet and took a defensive stance against the wall, looking for this second attacker as he faced Macnair. The street seemed empty and this only served to raise the hackles on the back of his neck. Macnair was plainly visible so whoever else was here was now wearing the cloak.
Harry ducked a curse from Macnair and, spinning, fired a spray of water across the narrow confines of the alley hoping to find out where the other wizard was hiding. The stream struck an invisible object on the opposite side of the alley and Harry turned to face it. Macnair took advantage of this distraction and fired a series of curses before turning and dashing up the alley. Harry dodged left, threw up a hasty stunner at where his invisible attacker had been, and followed. He caught up to Macnair as the wizard entered a clear space just before Diagon Alley. He skidded to a halt and seemed to gather himself. Harry saw that he was going to apparate and threw a quick blasting hex to try and disrupt him. The spell missed, striking a brick wall behind Macnair but shards of broken masonry flew out and struck him just as he disappeared.
A muffled cry drowned out any sound of the disapparation and, cursing, Harry stepped forward. There was no way for Harry to track Macnair now and, likely, he would be on his way to report his attacker to his master. Harry cursed again as he kicked a piece of broken rock. His eyes shot open when, instead of hard bit of stone flying across the alley, there was a mushy sort of sound as the thing slid along the ground. Harry ducked down to take a closer look and began to chuckle. Macnair had splinched himself. There on the ground, among the refuse, was booted foot. Harry knew this was his chance to avoid detection. He kicked the appendage into a distant corner to conceal it, then went back down the alley to find Macnair's accomplice.
It didn't take long as it turned out. Harry's hurried stunner had caught the man and he lay there in the road, still mostly under the invisibility cloak. A quick look revealed the man to be Burke the co-owner of Borgin and Burke's. Harry quickly levitated the still stunned wizard back into his shop and locked the door.
Harry looked around the shop,shop; it was still as dark, dreary and dusty as when he had accidentally flooed here in his second year. Well, in his other life that was. Harry shook his head; he would have to find a way to stop thinking those things. He was no longer there and it served no point to remember what now never was. Harry stepped behind the counter and into the storeroom behind it. There in a corner, covered by a sheet three shades cleaner than anything else in the shop, stood the dark wooden cabinet that would be the gateway Voldemort would use to invade Hogwarts. Harry didn't bother to even consider what he was doing, he just fired a Reducto at the cursed thing and watched it be blown to splinters. With a wave of his wand he gathered the bits of wood and shrank them to fit in a bag he snatched from a table. Then he circled back to the front of the shop and revived Burke.
As he awoke, the rheumy-eyed old wizard looked around him to get his bearings. Seeing Harry standing there, with his wand pointed at his chest, caused him to scuttle back against the wall.
"Here now," he sputtered, "I don't know what you think you are doing but you won't get away with it."
Harry looked down with calm distain and answered, "I was just collecting a damaged bit of merchandise. You should be grateful, after all what would a paying customer say if he paid good gold for something that didn't work as advertised?"
"What 'er you talking 'bout?" Burke said, his eyes flicking about the room trying to see what Harry had taken.
Harry looked down at the little man,man; he was somehow reminded of Pettigrew in the oily man's rat-like mannerisms. He wondered if they were somehow related. He reached into his bag and pulled out one of the larger sticks of wood and gestured over his shoulder with it. "You had a Vanishing Cabinet in the back that didn't seem to be in working order anymore. I was just going to dispose of it for you. No need to thank me, just being a conscientious customer."
"But... That piece... He said..." the greasy little man couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence but Harry got the gist of what he meant.
"Well, you could send a note to little Malfoy that the cabinet has been destroyed," Harry stated calmly. "Or you could just tell Voldemort." Burke squeaked and pulled himself into a tight ball at that thought. "Or you could just tell him nothing... /Obliviate!/"
As Burke slumped into a glassy-eyed heap in the corner, Harry left the shop and returned to where Macnair had attempted to apparate out. He dumped his bag of sticks into a pile then disillusioned himself and leaned against a lamppost to wait.
He debated with himself for a minute about returning down the alley to retrieve the fallen invisibility cloak but decided the risk of missing Macnair was too great. He reckoned the Death Eater would be in great pain and anxious to retrieve his stray limb, but would also want to wait until he was reasonably certain that Harry had given up the chase and left. He calculated it would take about half an hour for the pain to override the man's common sense and he had already spent nearly twenty minutes dealing with Burke and the cabinet. Now all he had to do was wait.
Harry glanced around the Alley and found it deserted. The residents of Knockturn Alley had an amazingly advanced sense of self-preservation and it had kept most of them from stepping out into the open once the duel had begun. He didn't delude himself into thinking that there was no one there, however. Harry knew they were. There were likely dozens of pairs of eyes watching him right this minute, calculating how much longer it would be before it was safe to come out of their bolt holes. Hopefully not too much longer, Harry hoped. Narcissa was waiting for him, after all.
Just then there was a loud crack as Macnair reappeared. He was supported by a makeshift crutch transfigured from an umbrella. You could still the cloth of the brolly flapping along the lower shaft. Harry held still and after a short wait, Macnair started searching the ground for his foot. Harry held back until the man stood in the middle of the lane staring at the pile of sticks there. They hadn't been there when he had splinched himself so they had to have been left by...
Macnair threw himself to the side and collapsed to the ground, twirling to bring his wand to bear. He fired off a series of flame curses at the area where he knew Harry had to be standing, hoping to, by luck, strike home. Harry ducked down and to his right as he fired off the same purple cutting spell that Dolohov had used against Hermione in the Department of Mysteries.
The spell hit Macnair just as his eyes widened with realization that he had been beaten. Harry canceled his concealment and carefully walked up beside the stricken Death Eater. Macnair was obviously in a lot of pain as Harry's spell had sliced cleanly across his chest. Blood seeped through his robes as the damage the organ melting curse caused spread through his vitals. He looked up at Harry, his eyes wide in a plea for mercy. They both knew that there was no hope to counter the curse in time to save him, the only mercy left was to make the end quick. Harry pointed his wand and ended the man's suffering. Looking around at the still deserted Alley, he knew that he couldn't leave the body here to be found by Aurors; the violent death of a Ministry employee would raise too many questions, Death Eater or not. With a flick of his wand he ignited the pile of wood and started a small bonfire. A second and more complicated motion, along with a muttered incantation transfigured Macnair's body into a wooden manikin that Harry levitated up and onto his small pyre. Then Harry found, transfigured, and burned the stray foot as well.
A couple of Incendios assured that everything sped along well and in just a few minutes there was nothing left but ashes. Harry politely vanished the mess before he popped away.
Harry arrived in the lobby of the Berkshire Hotel only a few minutes late. He hoped Narcissa would be her usual fifteen so that he would still be there before her but it was not meant to be. He saw her standing at the bell captain's station while an earnest looking young man took her overnight case and started off towards the lifts. Harry raised a hand in greeting and she rose up to give him a kiss on the cheek. She pulled back with her nose wrinkled in disgust.
"You smell like Guy Fawkes the day after," she said in a half question, half rebuke.
"Sorry, but some fool decided he needed to practice for bonfire night and I had to see that it got taken care of," Harry replied by way of apology. He really hadn't noticed how he smelled of smoke but, thinking about it, it didn't surprise him. "Is it really that bad?"
"Well, I'm certainly not going out with you in public smelling like that. Here, you take this and go have a shower," she said while handing him the room key. "I'll order us up a light supper and then we'll decide what to do with the rest of the evening."
Harry went up to their usual room and into the bath. As the water warmed, he stripped and tossed his clothes on a chair. After he was clean he would see to them. The hot water felt wonderful as it cascaded down his back and he made sure to thoroughly wash his hair to get rid of any lingering trace of smoke. Tying on one of the hotels thick, white terrycloth dressing gowns he rubbed a towel fiercely over his hair to dry it.
Stepping into the sitting room, Harry had little doubt what Narcissa had already planned for the evening, and it didn't include the theatre. There was a light supper for two laid out at the small table, prawn salad it looked like and some bread, along with a bottle of champagne. Narcissa, herself, was seated in one of the chairs waiting for him. She was dressed in a nearly transparent white peignoir that was tied almost closed below her bust. Her legs were delicately crossed at the knee as she toyed with a tall flute of champagne. She smiled beckoningly at him as she waved at his seat.
Harry's hands traced the gentle curves of Narcissa's hips as they dipped in to her waist. Her hair was tossed forward and partially covered her breasts as she rode above him. Harry slid his hands further upwards, tracing his thumbs lightly over her taut nipples. He tried to rise up, to take one of them into his mouth, to suckle on it as he teased the other with his hand but Narcissa placed her hands on his shoulders and held him down.
"No," she whispered deep in her throat, "tonight you just lie there while I take care of everything." She punctuated this by grinding her hips down onto his, taking every millimeter of him into her.
Then slowly, she began to move. She wound her hips in a tight figure eight as she slowly rose up onto her knees. Very slowly, she drew him out of her depths; her hips constantly undulating in ever larger movements. The figure eights grew larger, causing Harry's cock to twist and twirl inside her. Slowly, oh so slowly, she rose up until only the very tip of him was still inside her. Then, with an erotic growl as she paused above him, she slammed her hips back down onto him, driving his cock deep inside her once again. Arching her back, she pressed herself down, ensuring that she had all of him there was to get. She rocked her clit against the base of his staff for a moment before starting the whole cycle over again.
Harry tried to grab her hips but she slapped his hands away as she returned to her own erotic dance. Her hips swayed back and forth, forward and back, all the while rubbing his cock on every side. She rose slowly, showing how Harry stretched her lips and her swollen nub peeking out, aching to be touched. Her perfect breasts heaved as she struggled with her own building desires to keep her movement slow and tantalizingly controlled. Once again, she had reached the point where only the very tip of him remain within her lips as she swirled him inside her.
And again, she rammed herself down on his staff. Impaling it completely within her. Harry swore he could feel the very end of her pussy pressed up against his head as she ground her pelvis against his. He felt the power building up as he realized he would soon explode in her. Narcissa must have felt it too as she quickly rose up and reached down with her hands. She circled the base of his penis with her thumb and index finger, squeezing hard and pressing down as she held herself up with her other hand.
"Oh, no, lover," she panted, "I'm not ready to end it here." Her breath was coming in ragged pants as her breasts heaved with each movement. "Not nearly ready." She smiled a smile at him that made him glad he was a man as she continued. "I'll tell you what. You hold out until I am good and satisfied and I'll show you a special treat. It may take awhile but I promise it will be worth it."
Harry could barely manage a nod as she continued squeezing. He didn't know how but it managed to get him back under control and he fought back the previously irresistible urge to cum. Gradually Narcissa eased off, when she was sure that Harry had come back from the brink. She dank back onto his shaft and once again began to roll her hips on top of him.
Harry didn't know how he managed it but he did. He tensed his thighs until he began to lose feeling in his feet. He focused on his heartbeat and tried to keep it from running away. He did whatever he could as Narcissa slowly rose and then plummeted down on his cock over and over again. He locked his eyes closed trying to think of anything but the beautiful woman who was right now riding his cock.
Finally, he sensed a change in her rhythm. No longer was she making those intoxicating figure eights but was instead just rocking back and forth, rubbing her clit against his shaft. Harry looked up to see her above him, her eyes glassy with lust and need, as one hand teased her breast while the other worked between her legs. Suddenly, she began to buck against him while making incoherent sounds, somewhere between a whimper and a growl. Her body spasmed with release as her orgasm shook her to her very core. She collapsed against his chest, struggling to regain some control of her racing pulse. She gulped air in as she attempted to speak.
After a minute she was able to form the words. "You did marvelously, lover. Everything I ever wanted; now, are you ready for your reward?"
Harry could only nod as she slid his still hard cock from her womb. Slowly, she slid down his legs until it was looking her right in the face. She grinned wantonly up at him as she opened her lips and took his cock, still slick with the juices of her own orgasm, into her mouth. Harry nearly passed out. He loved the sensation of her sucking him and now, with his own senses practically overloaded, it was even better. She stared directly into his eyes as she took him deeper. He felt himself hit the back of her throat and he expected her to stop there, but no. With a slight shift of her head, Narcissa pressed down again and Harry felt himself moving further, down her throat until her nose was pressed deep in the curly black thatch in his crotch. Narcissa took him all the way down her throat and as Harry struggled to comprehend what he was seeing, she began to hum.
The new sensation of these vibrations all along his shaft nearly caused him to orgasm on the spot but once again, Narcissa's fingers had circled the base of his cock and squeezed, preventing his release. Needing air, she back off and took in great gulps of oxygen then once again slid him all the way down her throat. Again and again she deep throated him as she made sure he couldn't cum. Finally, his fists balled up in the bedcovers, she relented. Releasing her hold on his staff, she bobbed her head up and down on his cock as Harry erupted in the most powerful orgasm of his life. Narcissa sucked hard and didn't let a single drop escape as she swallowed all that he had to give her. Finally, reaching overload, Harry's legs began to twitch and he pulled himself from her mouth before he had a heart attack.
When Harry recovered enough to see his surroundings, he looked down and saw Narcissa smirking up at him from between his legs. She looked deliciously wanton as she slowly stroked his still semi-hard cock.
"So, was it worth it?" she asked throatily.
Harry could only manage a weak "Oh yes" before she took him back into her mouth.
"Isn't this better than sitting through some silly muggle play?" she asked between gulps. Harry's reply was to roll her over onto her back so he could control the next round.
An hour later they lay spooned together on the bed. Harry's hands were lightly caressing the smooth skin of her shoulders. He marveled at the sheer perfection on her. Nowhere on her body was there a single blemish. Her skin was as pure as the finest porcelain. Her breasts round, full and firm; her nipples like strawberries.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered sleepily to her. "Tell me, are you part veela, or an angel fallen from heaven to keep me company?"
She laughed coyly and pulled him still closer to her. She snuggled back against his chest and sighed.
"So, was there something you wanted to talk about?"
He pulled her yet closer to him and nuzzled her neck with his lips. "Nothing important now. I was just wondering who I was and what to do with myself, with my life."
Narcissa made a sound that in a young girl would have been a giggle. "Oh, you silly, you know exactly who and what you are."
Harry yawned and replied, "And what is that?"
She smiled lightly at him. "You are what you do. You use magic, therefore you are a wizard. You teach, therefore you are a teacher. You make love magnificently, therefore you are a magnificent lover. What more could any man ask for?"
Harry was shocked at the sheer, simple logic of it. You are what you do. As simple as that. He teaches so he is a teacher. He uses magic, so he is a wizard. His mind flashed back to the happenings in the alley that afternoon. He killed, so he was a killer. He used dark magic, therefore he was a dark... Hey! Wait a tic. Magnificent? With a smirk, Harry thought, 'I think I can live with that' and gently fell into a deep sleep.
Several hours later, Narcissa awoke to a familiar tingle that ran all over her body. Slowly, careful not to wake her lover, she eased out of bed and, taking her purse with her, made her way into the bathroom.
In the mirror, she looked at herself critically. She noticed the small crow's feet that extended from the corners of her eyes. The bags that sat under them. She had not yet found a grey hair but she knew it was only a matter of time. There were the small wrinkles on her neck that hadn't been there last year. She ran a hand down her torso, feeling her breasts flow under the pressure. She saw all the ravages that time had wrecked upon her body.
She reached into her purse and drew out a small vial. Taking a glass from the vanity before her, she would never be so crass as to gulp straight from the bottle as so many did, she poured a precise amount of clear fluid from the vial into the glass. She had years of experience with this potion and knew exactly what dosage to take and how long the effects would last.
With one last look at her own careworn reflection, she drank the potion and waited. Like a cool wave of water flowing up her body, she felt her skin tighten; her breasts rose and swelled before her. She watched in the mirror as the wrinkles shrank and disappeared as her skin grew taut and firm once again.
Placing the vial back in her bag she turned from the mirror, stealing one last glance at her reflection. "Perfect," she whispered as she returned to bed once again.