Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the east wing of Hogwarts
No 4, Privet Drive, noon, July 24th
And now Harry was completely finished with his gardening work. Working away had really cleared his head and he came to the conclusion that he’d need to set some very firm ground rules.
The first was ‘Don’t assume!’ cause a large part of his problems existed only because of other peoples assumptions. That his home life was a happy one, was one assumption, that he knew everything about the wizarding world, another. That he was a normal boy, even another. Nothing good came from assumptions, so he’d do all he can to dissuade everyone around him from assuming things about him.
The second rule was for Brigitta specifically. If she really was interested in forming a relationship to him, she’d better make the effort to get to know him. Of course what that meant for Harry, was that he’d have to confront his demons. His fears. The things he always shied away from. The mental abuse from the Dursleys. Putting up with everyone’s expectations. He’d probably break down and cry many times during these talks. But he hoped against all his experiences, that Brigitta wouldn’t exploit that.
O.k., maybe the Bond would help with that. Still, he felt uncomfortable of forcing that Bond on Brigitta, just to assuage his fears of being exploited. He’d stand this through. And Brigitta would have to make the effort to get closer to him. Because as of right now, she was pretty far away from him.
But, if she offered the Bond, he’d accept it. He’d have to see what would happen. Still, he was quite angry at Brigitta. His magic was lively. Maybe she liked playing tough. Alright, she’d see the results of her actions. He was ready.
Harry walked downstairs. His aunt was inside the kitchen.
“Aunt Petunia, I have to visit a friend of mine. I’ll be back tomorrow, if that is o.k. with you?” he asked.
“Tomorrow? When?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll plan on being back during the day.”
“O.k. Try to come back before Vernon arrives.”
Harry saw the wisdom in that, “Yeah, I’ll try.”
__--^^°°^^--__
Bones Manor, half an hour later
Harry had just landed in front of the garden door and took off his cloak when the front door wrenched open and his Suzy, naked as the day she was born, came crying and running towards him. He had barely closed the garden door, when she decelerated and hugged him with all her might.
“Oh Harry, my mother told me what she did. She can be such a stupid grown-up sometimes. Oh please, please forgive her one more time. I was screaming at her about her stupidity in all things you since you left. Please, please forgive her one more time. Merlin, we are so sorry.”
“Shh, Suzy. It’s alright. It wasn’t your mistake. It was hers. She will have to make amends, not you. I’ve never been angry at you. Didn’t the Bond tell you that?”
“Yes it did, Harry, but still she’s my mom. She taught me how to behave. She should know better.”
Harry laughed at the irony, “Story of my life in a nutshell: Grown-ups that should know better. Welcome to my world, Suzy.”
And with that sentence, Harry walked towards the manor. When he entered the entrance hall, he noticed Brigitta kneeling in the centre of it, naked, her head bowed down, and the floor wet from her tears.
“Look at me!” Harry commanded.
Brigitta looked up. Harry’s face was a study in seriousness. His eyes spoke volumes of his desire not to be taken advantage of again – or the danger for her if she did so. It really was her last chance at a relationship with him.
“You know, you sure say often enough you want to be my girlfriend. Yet your actions point me to the complete opposite. You say, you want to serve me. Yet your actions are not born of a submissive spirit. You say, you care about me. Yet your actions do nothing but hurt me. Who are you, woman?”
“I’m torn. I don’t know what to do,” Brigitta answered.
“But you do want to be mine?”
“From the bottom of my heart, yes!” Brigitta cried.
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what gets me going and what calms me. You know nothing of me at all. Your assumptions anger me, regardless of being right or wrong. So your first order will be: ‘Don’t assume!’ You are to ask me. Not your daughter, not Sirius Black, not Albus Dumbledore, me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Harry.”
“Others may claim, they know me. They don’t. Others say, they care about me. They don’t. Others pretend to act in my interest. They don’t. You are not to believe them. Only what I say is right. Do I ask too much of you?"
"No, Harry."
"The second thing I order you to do is: 'You have to make the effort!' I have no clue what it's like to be in a relationship with an experienced lover. I don't know what you want, what you like, what you need. Don't assume! Talk to me. But for Merlin's sake, don't think I'd have to know this or that. You want to be mine, you'll have to work at it. Don't mistake me for your former Master. I'm not him. I'll never be. Do I ask too much of you?"
"No, Harry."
"And don't ever think I'm exaggerating. Cause I'm not! My life has been bad. It was your daughter Susan, who helped me out of my emotional grave. No one else. Not you, not Sirius Black, not Albus Dumbledore. Susan."
Susan blushed.
"She stood by me, when I needed someone to help me. She is the one, who made the upcoming talk possible. She was selfless enough to offer me help at little reward for herself."
Harry looked down to his girlfriend and smiled.
"Susan, can we go into a different room? As beautiful as it is, I don't want to tell my Life in your entrance hall."
"Of course, Harry. Would you please follow me?"
With that, they went into the Bones' family library. Three walls covered in shelves filled up to the half of the third shelf with books. 2 large windows directed the view into the distance. There was a desk in the room, 2 chairs and a chaise longue.
Harry threw a shy glance towards Susan, “Be my pillows, Suzy?”
She replied “Gladly, Harry,” before she sat down, legs parted, squishing her boobs together, waiting for him.
Harry sat down, made himself comfortable (with not a small amount of help by his Suzy) and looked at Brigitta.
She had kneeled down on the rougher floor. Good, that meant she knew she was in the wrong. Penance.
“Everyone knows what happened, when Voldemort visited us. Somehow, something protected me and I didn’t get killed by him. What everyone forgets is, that he did manage to kill 2 people before it was ‘my turn’. My parents, namely. It wouldn’t have mattered, had I not survived. But then, I did. Voldemort’s curse blew up in his face and he disappeared. If only he hadn’t been the only one to do so…
“Cause now it’s the bigwig’s hour. The wizarding world sends their ‘help’. In form of one Rubeus Hagrid on Dumbledore’s orders. Sirius’ help gets swept away like an irksome fly and Dumbledore’s will be done. And Dumbledore’s will calls for my mother’s sister. My mother’s embittered, jealous, non-magical sister. Along with her husband, whose primary trait is absolute normalcy.
“Did you know, I thought my name was ‘Freak’? I was never called by my given name. I was given shelter, so I’m probably supposed to be thankful to them. Tough luck, they call it. I’ve learned, my name was Harry, when I went to school and no one answered to ‘Harry Potter’ during roll call. I’ve paid for that question, one week with no food, cause I’ve somehow managed to discover my real name. Me. As if I could’ve stopped the teacher. To the Dursleys? Doesn’t matter: I was wrong. I’ve always been. I’ll always be. I’m the freak. Thank you, Dumbledore.”
Both of his girlfriends already cried, not only from what he told them, but the nonchalant way Harry spoke of having the most fucked-up life.
And he omitted nothing. Not the Harry-hunting, nor the resulting beatings. Not the loneliness, his friendlessness, nor the tears in the dark. The tears without a sound, silently flowing down his cheeks – just like now.
Then the shock: he’s a wizard. And his rescue by one Rubeus Hagrid. Then bam: the magical world. A world he knows nothing about. Yet a world, everyone expects him to navigate with flawless ease. His celebrity status and the traps that come with that minefield. The ministry: organised power for the purebloods. Yet, he is expected to discard all that. Why? Because Dumbledore says it’s bad. And Dumbledore’s followers are a zealous lot.
He tells them all. Nothing gets discarded, nothing is too insignificant. He cries for almost the whole length. You wouldn’t hear it in his voice though. That was almost emotionless.
The Sun shone into the windows. Late afternoon. He had talked for four or five hours.
“So, Brigitta, this is my story. Anyone who tells you different, lies. You now know the truth. How are we going to proceed from here?”
“I want to comfort you. How can I achieve this? Would you like me to hug you?”
“Yes, Brigitta.”
The tears never stopped flowing. Yet, everything changed when Brigitta hugged him.
It wasn’t a hug like when they’ve met in front of Amelia’s office. Nothing exploded this time. Nothing went stiff. But Harry felt as if a cocoon of caring was slipped around him, a cocoon of love. He’d never felt so safe as he did now. His head dented into Brigitta’s breasts, just like a new born would.
Still, even as he felt at his most childlike, thoughts popped up. Grown-up thoughts. Naughty thoughts. He kissed Brigitta’s breasts and felt – more than heard, anyway – her gasp. It felt right. Was he ready for this?
Harry scrambled up from Brigitta’s Boobs. He needed to know. When he kissed Brigitta’s mouth it only took her a millisecond to respond to his needy, soulful kiss. Yes, it still felt right to Harry. He was ready for this firecracker.
Both let go of their magic. It clashed and crashed into itself, billowing throughout the room. Harry knew, he needed to tame this girl. She was wild and free. She wanted it to change, but she needed him to become quiet and docile. Almost as if the Viking part of Brigitta stood guard over the submissive part and it was up to Harry to prove himself worthy – or even outright overcome the Viking in Brigitta.
Brigitta growled at Harry to which Harrys ire grew. He’d show this upstart Viking how things were done in Britain. Then Brigitta started to rise up from the floor and was pushed to the wall. She shrieked – none of which mattered to Harry. She was in perfect reach.
Harrys John Thomas entered her pussy. Just like with Susan a few days ago, Harry went wild. The Bond magic felt like a heartbeat when he bonded Susan. With Brigitta, Harry likened it to war drums. And a war it became.
Everyone tried to dominate the other, every kiss a declaration of war, every grope an attack. Her nails dug into his back and drew blood, to which his ferociousness only rose. He grabbed her boobs, kneading them roughly, bit into her nipple, drawing a gasp from her.
He willed his magic into her – just not as a gift. Harry drew together every ounce of will he had, making it unbending in the process. All of Brigitta’s magic was slowly pushed back towards her. His rage kicked in at the resistance she put up and suddenly all of her magic and strength collapsed. Harry had her now. He could feel it in his mind. But he wouldn’t be distracted by it. No, he had a defiant Slave to tame and tame her – he would, oh yes, sir.
And just like a few days ago, he went crazy with his motions. He wanted Brigitta to have no doubts who had the pants on in their relationship. With every thrust he willed his dominance to reach her, to submit her. She screamed, but it was in lust. She enjoyed it. He was right. He had understood her correctly. That sense of power over her was exhilarating. He nearly came from this aphrodisiac.
But he wouldn’t let himself. He wasn’t finished, not nearly.
Then he saw, that Brigitta had spread her ass. He pulled his dick out of her pussy, lined up and pushed in. Another lustful scream left Brigitta’s mouth. She mewled and yammered, she shouted and whispered, she begged and pleaded for him, not to stop.
She spoke too much. So Harry decided to plug that hole. If Brigitta was anything like Susan, she’d like this. When he looked into Brigitta’s eyes he could see the absolute joy in her eyes. So he fucked her skull. Without a care.
Then he came. A veritable torrent of cum unleashed from his dick and Brigitta had to exert herself so that nothing spilled. It was a testament of her experience that she managed to do so.
Susan’s voice rang out, “He’s a fantastic lover, isn’t he, Mum?”
“Yes, my daughter,” panted Brigitta, “Never before have I been this fucked. Literally. Harry, I want to thank you so much, for really understanding me. Without you,… Harry? Harry!”
Soft snores were Harry’s only answer. Really, what was it with women and their need to talk.
And now Harry was completely finished with his gardening work. Working away had really cleared his head and he came to the conclusion that he’d need to set some very firm ground rules.
The first was ‘Don’t assume!’ cause a large part of his problems existed only because of other peoples assumptions. That his home life was a happy one, was one assumption, that he knew everything about the wizarding world, another. That he was a normal boy, even another. Nothing good came from assumptions, so he’d do all he can to dissuade everyone around him from assuming things about him.
The second rule was for Brigitta specifically. If she really was interested in forming a relationship to him, she’d better make the effort to get to know him. Of course what that meant for Harry, was that he’d have to confront his demons. His fears. The things he always shied away from. The mental abuse from the Dursleys. Putting up with everyone’s expectations. He’d probably break down and cry many times during these talks. But he hoped against all his experiences, that Brigitta wouldn’t exploit that.
O.k., maybe the Bond would help with that. Still, he felt uncomfortable of forcing that Bond on Brigitta, just to assuage his fears of being exploited. He’d stand this through. And Brigitta would have to make the effort to get closer to him. Because as of right now, she was pretty far away from him.
But, if she offered the Bond, he’d accept it. He’d have to see what would happen. Still, he was quite angry at Brigitta. His magic was lively. Maybe she liked playing tough. Alright, she’d see the results of her actions. He was ready.
Harry walked downstairs. His aunt was inside the kitchen.
“Aunt Petunia, I have to visit a friend of mine. I’ll be back tomorrow, if that is o.k. with you?” he asked.
“Tomorrow? When?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll plan on being back during the day.”
“O.k. Try to come back before Vernon arrives.”
Harry saw the wisdom in that, “Yeah, I’ll try.”
__--^^°°^^--__
Bones Manor, half an hour later
Harry had just landed in front of the garden door and took off his cloak when the front door wrenched open and his Suzy, naked as the day she was born, came crying and running towards him. He had barely closed the garden door, when she decelerated and hugged him with all her might.
“Oh Harry, my mother told me what she did. She can be such a stupid grown-up sometimes. Oh please, please forgive her one more time. I was screaming at her about her stupidity in all things you since you left. Please, please forgive her one more time. Merlin, we are so sorry.”
“Shh, Suzy. It’s alright. It wasn’t your mistake. It was hers. She will have to make amends, not you. I’ve never been angry at you. Didn’t the Bond tell you that?”
“Yes it did, Harry, but still she’s my mom. She taught me how to behave. She should know better.”
Harry laughed at the irony, “Story of my life in a nutshell: Grown-ups that should know better. Welcome to my world, Suzy.”
And with that sentence, Harry walked towards the manor. When he entered the entrance hall, he noticed Brigitta kneeling in the centre of it, naked, her head bowed down, and the floor wet from her tears.
“Look at me!” Harry commanded.
Brigitta looked up. Harry’s face was a study in seriousness. His eyes spoke volumes of his desire not to be taken advantage of again – or the danger for her if she did so. It really was her last chance at a relationship with him.
“You know, you sure say often enough you want to be my girlfriend. Yet your actions point me to the complete opposite. You say, you want to serve me. Yet your actions are not born of a submissive spirit. You say, you care about me. Yet your actions do nothing but hurt me. Who are you, woman?”
“I’m torn. I don’t know what to do,” Brigitta answered.
“But you do want to be mine?”
“From the bottom of my heart, yes!” Brigitta cried.
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what gets me going and what calms me. You know nothing of me at all. Your assumptions anger me, regardless of being right or wrong. So your first order will be: ‘Don’t assume!’ You are to ask me. Not your daughter, not Sirius Black, not Albus Dumbledore, me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Harry.”
“Others may claim, they know me. They don’t. Others say, they care about me. They don’t. Others pretend to act in my interest. They don’t. You are not to believe them. Only what I say is right. Do I ask too much of you?"
"No, Harry."
"The second thing I order you to do is: 'You have to make the effort!' I have no clue what it's like to be in a relationship with an experienced lover. I don't know what you want, what you like, what you need. Don't assume! Talk to me. But for Merlin's sake, don't think I'd have to know this or that. You want to be mine, you'll have to work at it. Don't mistake me for your former Master. I'm not him. I'll never be. Do I ask too much of you?"
"No, Harry."
"And don't ever think I'm exaggerating. Cause I'm not! My life has been bad. It was your daughter Susan, who helped me out of my emotional grave. No one else. Not you, not Sirius Black, not Albus Dumbledore. Susan."
Susan blushed.
"She stood by me, when I needed someone to help me. She is the one, who made the upcoming talk possible. She was selfless enough to offer me help at little reward for herself."
Harry looked down to his girlfriend and smiled.
"Susan, can we go into a different room? As beautiful as it is, I don't want to tell my Life in your entrance hall."
"Of course, Harry. Would you please follow me?"
With that, they went into the Bones' family library. Three walls covered in shelves filled up to the half of the third shelf with books. 2 large windows directed the view into the distance. There was a desk in the room, 2 chairs and a chaise longue.
Harry threw a shy glance towards Susan, “Be my pillows, Suzy?”
She replied “Gladly, Harry,” before she sat down, legs parted, squishing her boobs together, waiting for him.
Harry sat down, made himself comfortable (with not a small amount of help by his Suzy) and looked at Brigitta.
She had kneeled down on the rougher floor. Good, that meant she knew she was in the wrong. Penance.
“Everyone knows what happened, when Voldemort visited us. Somehow, something protected me and I didn’t get killed by him. What everyone forgets is, that he did manage to kill 2 people before it was ‘my turn’. My parents, namely. It wouldn’t have mattered, had I not survived. But then, I did. Voldemort’s curse blew up in his face and he disappeared. If only he hadn’t been the only one to do so…
“Cause now it’s the bigwig’s hour. The wizarding world sends their ‘help’. In form of one Rubeus Hagrid on Dumbledore’s orders. Sirius’ help gets swept away like an irksome fly and Dumbledore’s will be done. And Dumbledore’s will calls for my mother’s sister. My mother’s embittered, jealous, non-magical sister. Along with her husband, whose primary trait is absolute normalcy.
“Did you know, I thought my name was ‘Freak’? I was never called by my given name. I was given shelter, so I’m probably supposed to be thankful to them. Tough luck, they call it. I’ve learned, my name was Harry, when I went to school and no one answered to ‘Harry Potter’ during roll call. I’ve paid for that question, one week with no food, cause I’ve somehow managed to discover my real name. Me. As if I could’ve stopped the teacher. To the Dursleys? Doesn’t matter: I was wrong. I’ve always been. I’ll always be. I’m the freak. Thank you, Dumbledore.”
Both of his girlfriends already cried, not only from what he told them, but the nonchalant way Harry spoke of having the most fucked-up life.
And he omitted nothing. Not the Harry-hunting, nor the resulting beatings. Not the loneliness, his friendlessness, nor the tears in the dark. The tears without a sound, silently flowing down his cheeks – just like now.
Then the shock: he’s a wizard. And his rescue by one Rubeus Hagrid. Then bam: the magical world. A world he knows nothing about. Yet a world, everyone expects him to navigate with flawless ease. His celebrity status and the traps that come with that minefield. The ministry: organised power for the purebloods. Yet, he is expected to discard all that. Why? Because Dumbledore says it’s bad. And Dumbledore’s followers are a zealous lot.
He tells them all. Nothing gets discarded, nothing is too insignificant. He cries for almost the whole length. You wouldn’t hear it in his voice though. That was almost emotionless.
The Sun shone into the windows. Late afternoon. He had talked for four or five hours.
“So, Brigitta, this is my story. Anyone who tells you different, lies. You now know the truth. How are we going to proceed from here?”
“I want to comfort you. How can I achieve this? Would you like me to hug you?”
“Yes, Brigitta.”
The tears never stopped flowing. Yet, everything changed when Brigitta hugged him.
It wasn’t a hug like when they’ve met in front of Amelia’s office. Nothing exploded this time. Nothing went stiff. But Harry felt as if a cocoon of caring was slipped around him, a cocoon of love. He’d never felt so safe as he did now. His head dented into Brigitta’s breasts, just like a new born would.
Still, even as he felt at his most childlike, thoughts popped up. Grown-up thoughts. Naughty thoughts. He kissed Brigitta’s breasts and felt – more than heard, anyway – her gasp. It felt right. Was he ready for this?
Harry scrambled up from Brigitta’s Boobs. He needed to know. When he kissed Brigitta’s mouth it only took her a millisecond to respond to his needy, soulful kiss. Yes, it still felt right to Harry. He was ready for this firecracker.
Both let go of their magic. It clashed and crashed into itself, billowing throughout the room. Harry knew, he needed to tame this girl. She was wild and free. She wanted it to change, but she needed him to become quiet and docile. Almost as if the Viking part of Brigitta stood guard over the submissive part and it was up to Harry to prove himself worthy – or even outright overcome the Viking in Brigitta.
Brigitta growled at Harry to which Harrys ire grew. He’d show this upstart Viking how things were done in Britain. Then Brigitta started to rise up from the floor and was pushed to the wall. She shrieked – none of which mattered to Harry. She was in perfect reach.
Harrys John Thomas entered her pussy. Just like with Susan a few days ago, Harry went wild. The Bond magic felt like a heartbeat when he bonded Susan. With Brigitta, Harry likened it to war drums. And a war it became.
Everyone tried to dominate the other, every kiss a declaration of war, every grope an attack. Her nails dug into his back and drew blood, to which his ferociousness only rose. He grabbed her boobs, kneading them roughly, bit into her nipple, drawing a gasp from her.
He willed his magic into her – just not as a gift. Harry drew together every ounce of will he had, making it unbending in the process. All of Brigitta’s magic was slowly pushed back towards her. His rage kicked in at the resistance she put up and suddenly all of her magic and strength collapsed. Harry had her now. He could feel it in his mind. But he wouldn’t be distracted by it. No, he had a defiant Slave to tame and tame her – he would, oh yes, sir.
And just like a few days ago, he went crazy with his motions. He wanted Brigitta to have no doubts who had the pants on in their relationship. With every thrust he willed his dominance to reach her, to submit her. She screamed, but it was in lust. She enjoyed it. He was right. He had understood her correctly. That sense of power over her was exhilarating. He nearly came from this aphrodisiac.
But he wouldn’t let himself. He wasn’t finished, not nearly.
Then he saw, that Brigitta had spread her ass. He pulled his dick out of her pussy, lined up and pushed in. Another lustful scream left Brigitta’s mouth. She mewled and yammered, she shouted and whispered, she begged and pleaded for him, not to stop.
She spoke too much. So Harry decided to plug that hole. If Brigitta was anything like Susan, she’d like this. When he looked into Brigitta’s eyes he could see the absolute joy in her eyes. So he fucked her skull. Without a care.
Then he came. A veritable torrent of cum unleashed from his dick and Brigitta had to exert herself so that nothing spilled. It was a testament of her experience that she managed to do so.
Susan’s voice rang out, “He’s a fantastic lover, isn’t he, Mum?”
“Yes, my daughter,” panted Brigitta, “Never before have I been this fucked. Literally. Harry, I want to thank you so much, for really understanding me. Without you,… Harry? Harry!”
Soft snores were Harry’s only answer. Really, what was it with women and their need to talk.
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