Harry sat sprawled in the armchair, his legs stretched out as he nursed a glass of firewhiskey. Daphne perched on the edge of the sofa beside Fleur, her posture perfect despite the relaxed setting, while Regina had claimed the ottoman near Harry's feet, her legs tucked beneath her.
"So," Daphne said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled after Harry finished recounting his meeting with Amelia Bones. "Let me make sure I understand this correctly. The Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the woman who is supposed to be the very embodiment of legal justice in Britain, wants you to kidnap, torture, and deliver Augustus Flint to her so she can exact personal revenge?"
"That about sums it up," Harry confirmed, taking a sip of his drink.
"Bloody hell," Daphne muttered, shaking her head slowly. "I knew Amelia Bones had a reputation for being tough, but this is something else entirely."
"You know 'er?" Fleur asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Know of her, mostly," Daphne replied. "My father's dealt with the DMLE on various occasions. Amelia Bones is considered one of the most competent administrators the Ministry has had in decades. Fair but ruthless when it comes to enforcement. I never would have guessed she had this kind of darkness in her."
"Everyone 'as darkness," Fleur observed quietly. "Some just 'ide it better zan others."
Regina let out a low whistle, her eyes gleaming with barely suppressed excitement. "I have to admit, I'm impressed. The woman has style. Using her position to gather information while plotting cold blooded revenge on the side? That takes serious bollocks."
"Or serious trauma," Daphne countered. "From what Harry told us, Augustus Flint tortured her brother and sister-in-law to death. That kind of loss changes people."
Harry nodded slowly, remembering the raw emotion he'd seen in Amelia's eyes when she'd talked about her family. "She's been carrying this for years, waiting for an opportunity. When Marcus tried to assault Fleur and it put him in Azkaban, it gave her the opening she needed."
"Speaking of which," Fleur said, her blue eyes hardening as she looked at Harry. "I want to thank you again for what you did. Not just stopping Marcus, but making sure 'e could not escape justice through 'is family connections."
"You already thanked me," Harry said with a slight smile. "Multiple times, if I recall correctly."
Fleur's cheeks colored slightly, but she didn't look away. "Oui, well, it bears repeating. What 'e tried to do to me, what 'is father did to ze Bones family, these are not things zat should go unpunished."
"Which brings us back to Augustus," Daphne interjected, her tone businesslike as she steered the conversation back on track. "What do you all actually know about him?"
"He's a snake," Regina said flatly. "Always has been. During the war, he was one of the most enthusiastic Death Eaters. Not because he believed in blood purity or any of that rubbish, mind you. He just enjoyed the power and the excuse to hurt people."
"'Ow did 'e avoid Azkaban?" Fleur asked with a frown.
"Claimed Imperius," Daphne explained with obvious distaste. "Along with half the other Death Eaters who had money and connections. The Ministry was so desperate to move past the war that they accepted testimony from anyone willing to pay the right bribes and swear they'd been controlled."
"And ze evidence against 'im?"
"Inadmissible under the Post War Reconciliation Act," Harry said with a shrug, his expression distasteful. "Any testimony about actions taken while supposedly under the Imperius Curse can't be used to prosecute. It's complete bollocks, but it's the law."
Regina leaned back on the ottoman, her expression thoughtful. "And Amelia Bones can't touch him legally, which is why she needs you to do it unofficially. Smart woman."
"Very smart," Daphne agreed. "She's essentially outsourcing her revenge to someone who has his own reasons to want Augustus Flint dealt with. Plausible deniability if things go wrong, and she gets what she wants either way."
"Assuming 'Arry agrees to help her," Fleur pointed out, glancing at him. "Which I assume 'e 'as, given zat we are discussing zis at all."
Harry met her gaze steadily. "Augustus threatened us both publicly. He made it clear he considers me responsible for his son's fate, and that he sees you as collateral damage. That makes this personal."
"So you will 'elp 'er?"
"I will," Harry confirmed. "Augustus Flint is exactly the kind of Death Eater filth that deserves to be put down. If Amelia wants to be the one to do it, I'm more than happy to deliver him to her."
"Good," Fleur said with a savage satisfaction that surprised even Harry. She'd been on the receiving end of Marcus Flint's attempted assault, although orchestrated but clearly inevitable, and the anger she felt extended to his father as well, especially after his public display in the Ministry. "Zat family 'as caused enough pain."
Regina's lips curved into a wicked smile as she looked between Harry and the two witches. "Now that we've established that Harry's going to help the lovely Director Bones exact her revenge, I think we should discuss the really interesting part of this whole arrangement."
Daphne asked dryly, "And what part would that be?"
"The payment, obviously," Regina purred, her eyes dancing with mischief and unrestrained delight. "Our dear Harry here propositioned the Director of the DMLE right in her own office as compensation for his services."
Harry didn't even try to deny it, simply taking another sip of his firewhiskey with a satisfied smile. "She was trying to manipulate me with seduction. I just made it clear what form of payment I'd actually accept."
"And she agreed," Regina said gleefully. "Said something could be arranged. Which is Ministry speak for absolutely yes, just not officially until the job's done."
Daphne was staring at Harry with an expression of impressed disbelief. "I still can't believe you actually negotiated sex as payment for helping her commit murder."
"She offered," Harry said with a shrug. "I simply clarified terms. Amelia Bones is an attractive, powerful woman who knows exactly what she wants. Why wouldn't I be interested?"
"Because she's the Director of the DMLE?" Daphne suggested, though there was amusement rather than disapproval in her voice.
"Which makes it more interesting, not less," Harry replied easily. "Power is attractive. The fact that she's willing to step outside the law for revenge tells me she's got depths most people never see. That's worth exploring."
Fleur had been watching him with an appreciative gleam in her eyes. "You said she 'ad 'er Auror with 'er when you left, non? Ze one called Tonks?"
"That's right," Harry confirmed. "Tonks is in on the whole revenge plot. She's a metamorphmagus, which makes her useful for covert operations. And from what I observed, there's definitely something between them."
"Something romantic?" Daphne asked with raised eyebrows.
"Sexual at minimum," Harry said with certainty. "The way they looked at each other, the familiarity between them, the way Tonks reacted when she saw how aroused Amelia was. They're involved."
"That would explain why Amelia was comfortable using seduction as a negotiation tactic," Daphne mused. "If she's already in a relationship with Tonks, propositioning you wouldn't carry emotional weight. Purely transactional."
"Or she just likes both," Regina suggested with a grin. "Some people enjoy variety. Either way, Harry's going to end up in bed with at least one very attractive, very powerful witch as payment for dealing with a Death Eater who absolutely deserves what's coming to him."
"At least one?" Fleur asked with interest.
Regina's grin widened wickedly. "Come on. If this Tonks is involved with Amelia Bones and she saw her during her little seduction session, she must've been staring at her boss's tits just as much as Harry. And she's a metamorphmagus who can look like literally anyone. You think a woman with those abilities isn't interested in sexual experimentation?"
The thought made Harry's runes prickle with anticipation, and he didn't bother hiding his interest. "The possibility did cross my mind."
"I bet it did," Regina said with obvious delight. "Two attractive witches who are already involved with each other, one of whom can change her appearance at will. The possibilities are rather extensive."
Daphne was watching Harry with an assessing look. "You're really not bothered by any of this, are you? The age difference, the professional complications, the fact that you're essentially being paid for assassination with sex?"
"Why would I be bothered?" Harry asked genuinely. "Amelia's an adult who knows what she wants. So am I. We're both getting something out of this arrangement. The Death Eater gets dealt with, she gets her revenge, and I get compensated in a way we both find agreeable. Everyone wins except Augustus Flint."
"When you put it like that, it does sound rather straightforward," Daphne admitted, chuckling.
"Besides," Harry continued with a knowing smile, "I have a feeling Amelia Bones is going to be very enthusiastic about fulfilling her end of the bargain. She's been controlled by the system for years, forced to play by rules that protected her family's murderer. This is her chance to take that control back. That kind of liberation tends to make people rather... uninhibited."
Regina made an appreciative sound. "Oh, I like the way you think. You're absolutely right. Women in positions of power or who are expected to act a certain way, when finally cut loose, tend to be absolutely wild in bed. All that pent up control and authority has to go somewhere."
"You would know," Daphne said dryly.
"I would indeed," Regina agreed without shame. "And I'm willing to bet that when Harry does end up in bed with Amelia Bones, she's going to exceed all expectations. Older women who know what they want and aren't afraid to take it are incredibly satisfying partners."
Fleur was nodding slowly, her expression thoughtful and openly aroused. "She 'as a point. Experience counts for a lot when it comes to pleasure. And if Amelia Bones 'as been with Tonks, zen she definitely knows 'ow to satisfy a woman. Zat skill translates to satisfying a man as well."
"Not to mention," Regina added with a wicked glint in her eye, "if Tonks is involved, Harry might end up with both of them at once. A metamorphmagus and a powerful Ministry official? That's the kind of scenario most wizards only dream about."
Harry felt his body responding to the increasingly explicit images this conversation was creating in his mind, his runes prickling with arousal as all three witches looked at him with varying degrees of interest and appreciation.
"You three are terrible influences," he said without any real complaint.
"We're realistic," Daphne giggled. "You're an attractive, powerful wizard who just negotiated sexual favors from the head of Magical Law Enforcement. We're simply acknowledging the situation for what it is."
"And imagining what it's going to be like when you actually collect on that payment," Regina added with a grin. "Because let's be honest, we're all curious. Amelia Bones seems so proper and controlled in public. I want to know what she's like when all that control breaks down."
"You want to know what she's like in bed," Harry said bluntly.
"Absolutely I do," Regina agreed without hesitation. "The woman runs the DMLE, commands respect from every Auror in Britain, and apparently has been plotting cold blooded revenge for years while maintaining a perfect professional facade. That kind of intensity and control has to manifest somehow when she finally lets go."
"She'll probably be dominant," Daphne mused, her analytical mind working through the problem. "Used to being in charge, making decisions, controlling situations. That would carry over into the bedroom."
"Unless she wants to give up control for once," Fleur countered. "Sometimes people who 'ave to be in charge all ze time want exactly ze opposite when zey are intimate. Zey want someone else to take over, to let zem stop thinking and just feel."
"Both are possible," Harry said, his voice rougher than he intended. "Might depend on the situation, the mood, what she needs in that moment."
Regina's eyes were practically glowing with interest now. "And you'd be comfortable either way, wouldn't you? Taking control or giving it up, whatever she needs."
"I'm adaptable," Harry replied with a slight smile.
"You're a menace," Daphne said, but there was fondness rather than criticism in her tone. "A shameless, adaptable menace who's going to end up in increasingly complicated sexual situations."
"Sounds about right," Harry agreed easily.
"What about Tonks though?" Regina pressed, clearly not ready to let this topic go. "The metamorphmagus angle opens up so many possibilities. She could look like anyone, be anyone. That's got to be incredibly arousing."
"It is," Harry admitted. "The idea of someone who can literally become any fantasy, adapt to any preference, change everything about themselves to suit the moment. That's powerful in its own way."
"And if she's with Amelia Bones," Fleur said thoughtfully, "zen she probably knows exactly what Amelia likes. She could use 'er abilities to enhance ze experience for everyone involved."
Regina made a soft sound of appreciation. "Now there's a thought. Tonks could be anyone Amelia finds attractive, or anyone Harry finds attractive, or create entirely new forms optimized for pleasure. The possibilities are genuinely endless."
"You're putting way too much thought into this," Daphne observed.
"I'm putting exactly the right amount of thought into this," Regina countered. "Harry's going to be fucking two powerful, experienced witches, one of whom can literally change her body at will. This is the kind of thing worth thinking about in detail."
"She's got a point," Harry said with a grin.
"Of course I do," Regina replied smugly. "I always do when it comes to matters of pleasure."
Before the conversation could continue down this increasingly explicit path, Fleur's attention was drawn to the golden egg sitting on the side table near the sofa. She'd placed it there when they'd first entered the room, and now it seemed to taunt her with its unsolved mystery.
"Speaking of matters," she said with obvious frustration, "we still 'ave no idea what zis bloody clue means."
The subject change was abrupt enough that everyone turned to look at the egg. Harry's own egg sat on the floor beside his chair, equally mysterious and equally annoying.
Daphne frowned at Fleur's egg. "How many times have you tried opening it? Any change?"
"Multiple times," Fleur replied with a grimace. "All I get is zis 'orrible screeching sound zat feels like someone is scraping ze inside of my skull with a dull knife."
"Maybe that's the clue," Harry suggested. "Pain or discomfort?"
"Zat would be a terrible clue," Fleur said flatly. "Unless ze second task involves surviving torture, which given what 'appened with ze dragons, I would not put past zese organizers."
She reached for the egg, her fingers moving to unlatch it, when Daphne's hand shot out and swatted hers away with surprising force.
"Don't you dare," Daphne said sharply. "We're in an enclosed space, and none of us want to hear that screeching again."
Fleur pulled her hand back, her expression shifting to irritation. "It is ze clue. We 'ave to figure it out somehow."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should just keep opening it randomly and hoping for a different result," Daphne countered, her tone taking on the patient exasperation of someone explaining something obvious. "That's the definition of insanity."
"So what do you suggest?" Fleur asked, her voice rising as her irritation grew. "Zat we just stare at it and 'ope ze answer comes to us in a dream?"
"I suggest we think about it logically," Daphne replied coolly. "The egg makes a horrible noise when opened normally. That means either the noise itself is the clue, which seems unlikely, or the method of opening it needs to be altered somehow."
"Altered 'ow?"
"I don't know yet, that's why I said we need to think about it," Daphne said with strained patience. "But blindly opening it over and over isn't going to help."
"At least I am trying somzing!" Fleur shot back, her blue eyes flashing. "You are just sitting zere criticizing without offering any actual solutions."
"I'm trying to prevent you from deafening us all with your impulsive behavior," Daphne retorted, her composure starting to crack. "Some of us prefer to approach problems with logic rather than brute force."
"And some of us prefer to actually do somzing razzer zan just talk about doing somzing," Fleur snapped back.
Harry watched the two witches descend into yet another argument, feeling a mixture of amusement and resignation. They'd been getting along so much better lately, especially after he'd forced them to actually talk to each other, but apparently old habits died hard.
Regina, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying the show. She'd shifted position on the ottoman, her attention focused on the bickering witches with obvious amusement and something else, something anticipatory.
"You know," she said quietly to Harry, her voice low and intimate, "a little bit of spice like this is good. Keeps things interesting."
"They're going to kill each other eventually," Harry replied, though his tone was more amused than concerned.
"Maybe," Regina agreed. "But remember how good it was when they finally stopped fighting and started cooperating? When they both focused all that passion and intensity on you?"
Harry absolutely remembered. The memory of Daphne and Fleur working together, their hands and mouths on him simultaneously, the way they'd coordinated their movements perfectly, it sent immediate heat through him that made his runes flare noticeably.
Regina noticed his reaction, her smile widening as her hand came to rest on his thigh. "There it is. You remember very well, don't you?"
"Hard to forget something like that," Harry admitted without embarrassment.
"Mmm," Regina purred, her hand sliding higher with intent. "So why don't we recreate that feeling while they sort out their issues?"
Her fingers traced patterns on his leg through the fabric of his trousers, the touch confident and knowing. Harry felt his arousal spike further as she leaned closer, her breasts pressing against his arm.
"Let them bicker," Regina continued, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. "They'll tire themselves out eventually. In the meantime, you can focus on me."
Harry's hand moved to cover hers on his thigh, his fingers intertwining with hers as he met her gaze steadily. "You're insatiable."
"I prefer enthusiastic," Regina corrected with a wicked grin. "And right now, I'm very enthusiastic about the idea of having you all to myself while those two argue about eggs and logic."
Her free hand moved to his chest, fingers trailing down his sternum with clear intent. Harry could feel the heat of her body, smell her perfume mixed with arousal, and his runes were practically singing with approval.
"We should probably help them figure out the clue," Harry said, though his hands were already moving to pull her closer.
"Later," Regina promised, shifting to straddle his lap in one fluid motion. The position put her directly on top of him, her warmth pressing against his obvious erection. "Right now, I have better ideas."
She rolled her hips against him slowly, and Harry's grip on her waist tightened as pleasure sparked through him. Behind them, Daphne and Fleur continued their argument, seemingly oblivious.
"You are being deliberately obtuse!" Fleur was saying, her voice sharp with frustration.
"And you're being reckless and impulsive," Daphne shot back. "As usual."
Regina's hands moved to Harry's shirt, unbuttoning it quickly as her mouth found his neck. "Ignore them," she whispered against his skin. "Focus on this."
Harry didn't need to be told twice. His hands slid up Regina's sides, feeling the curves of her body through her clothes as she continued to grind against him. The friction was maddening, pleasure building with each sensual movement of her hips.
Regina pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her own dark with unrestrained lust. "I want you," she said simply, no games or hesitation. "Right here, right now."
Harry's answer was to grip her arse firmly, pulling her harder against him as his mouth captured hers in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. Regina moaned into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his as her hands finished opening his shirt.
She broke the kiss to yank the fabric off his shoulders, her eyes roaming appreciatively over his bare chest. "Much better," she murmured, her nails scraping lightly over his skin in a way that made him shudder.
Harry's hands moved to her blouse, returning the favor as he unbuttoned it swiftly. He revealed the lacy bra underneath, her nipples already hard and visible through the sheer fabric. His thumbs brushed over them intentionally, and Regina arched into the touch with a breathless gasp.
"Fuck," she breathed. "More."
Harry obliged, his hands cupping her breasts properly as his mouth moved to her throat. He could feel her pulse racing under his lips, taste the salt of her skin as he worked his way down to her collarbone.
Regina's hands were working at his belt, her movements urgent now. She freed him from his trousers impatiently, her hand wrapping around his cock as soon as it was exposed.
"So hard," she murmured appreciatively, stroking him slowly. "All for me."
Harry groaned against her skin, his hips jerking up into her grip. "Keep that up and this will be over before it starts."
"Can't have that," Regina agreed, though she didn't stop stroking him. "I want to feel you inside me when you come."
She lifted herself slightly, pushing her skirt up and her knickers aside. Harry felt the heat of her pussy against him, the wetness that proved she was just as aroused as he was.
"Ready?" she asked, positioning herself above him.
Harry's hands gripped her hips, his answer clear. Regina sank down onto him in one smooth motion, both of them gasping as he filled her completely.
"Fuck yes," Regina breathed, her head falling back as she adjusted to the sensation. "You feel incredible."
Harry's grip on her hips tightened as she began to move, rolling her hips in a rhythm that had them both breathing hard within seconds. The chair creaked beneath them, but neither cared.
Regina's pace increased, her movements becoming more urgent as she chased her pleasure. Her nails dug into Harry's shoulders, the slight sting adding an edge to the sensation.
"Harder," she demanded breathlessly. "Fuck me harder."
Harry obliged, his grip on her hips tightening as he thrust up into her with more force. Regina's moans were getting louder now, her control slipping as pleasure overwhelmed her.
It was one particularly loud, uninhibited moan that finally broke through Daphne and Fleur's concentration. Both witches turned simultaneously, their argument dying mid-sentence as they took in the scene before them.
Harry had Regina in his lap, her skirt pushed up around her waist and her blouse hanging open. The movement between them was unmistakable, as were Regina's unrestrained sounds of pleasure.
Daphne's mouth fell open in shock, her eyes widening. Fleur looked equally surprised, though there was definite arousal in her expression as she took in the explicit scene.
Regina, shameless as always, turned her head to look at them without breaking her rhythm. "Don't mind us," she said breathlessly, punctuating her words with another roll of her hips that made Harry groan. "You two just keep arguing. We'll join you in a few minutes."
She emphasized her point with a particularly deep movement that had her crying out sharply, her body shuddering against Harry's.
Daphne and Fleur exchanged a shocked look, neither seeming to know quite how to respond. Their argument had taken them into another world, and now it had been completely derailed. Now they simply stood frozen, watching as Harry and Regina continued without any apparent concern for their audience.
Regina's breathing became more ragged, her movements more erratic as she approached her climax. Harry could feel his own release building, pleasure coiling tighter in his core.
"Yes," Regina gasped. "Right there, don't stop, I'm so close."
Harry thrust harder, giving her exactly what she needed. Regina threw her head back with a loud cry, her body convulsing as orgasm crashed through her. The sensation of her clenching around him, combined with the sheer eroticism of the moment, pushed Harry over the edge.
He came with a muffled groan, burying his face against Regina's neck as his release pulsed through him in waves. Regina continued to move, milking every last bit of pleasure from him until they were both spent and trembling.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. Regina sagged against Harry's chest, her body boneless with satisfaction as she nuzzled into his neck contentedly.
Finally, Harry lifted his head to look at Daphne and Fleur. Both witches were still standing exactly where they'd been, though their expressions had shifted from shock to something more complicated. Daphne looked torn between arousal and exasperation, her cheeks flushed and her pupils dilated. Fleur's expression was openly hungry, her eyes dark as she stared at them.
Harry felt his lips curve into an amused smile. "So," he said, his voice rough but teasing. "Where were we?"
Regina laughed breathlessly against his chest, the sound muffled but full of satisfaction. She made no move to get up, seemingly content to stay exactly where she was.
"I believe," she said without lifting her head, "Daphne was explaining why Fleur shouldn't open the egg, and Fleur was explaining why Daphne was being too cautious."
"Right," Harry said with amusement. "That important conversation."
Daphne finally seemed to recover enough to speak. "You two are absolutely shameless."
"Yes," Regina agreed happily, still not moving from her position draped across Harry. "We are."
Fleur's lips twitched despite herself. "I 'ave to admit, zat was quite ze distraction."
"Glad we could help," Harry said with a grin, his hands idly stroking Regina's back.
Regina finally shifted, lifting herself off him with a soft sigh. The loss of contact made them both wince slightly, but she settled back onto the ottoman with obvious satisfaction, adjusting her clothing casually.
"Much better," she declared. "I feel wonderfully relaxed now."
Harry worked on buttoning his shirt back up, very aware of two sets of eyes watching his every movement. The tension in the room had shifted completely, the earlier argument between Daphne and Fleur seemingly forgotten in favor of this new dynamic.
"You know," Daphne said slowly, her voice slightly husky, "I'm not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed."
"Be both," Regina suggested cheerfully. "I usually am."
-Break-
The dimly lit room smelled of old parchment, stale tobacco, and something disgusting that Augustus Flint chose not to think about. The location was intentionally nondescript, a forgotten office in a building that had seen better days, somewhere in the seedier parts of magical London where questions weren't asked and memories were conveniently short.
Augustus sat in the lone chair that didn't look like it would collapse under weight, his expensive robes looking out of place in the squalid surroundings. Across from him stood a wizard whose name he'd never bothered to learn and didn't want to know. The man was tall and thin, with the kind of face that was instantly forgettable, which was exactly the point.
"You understand what I'm asking for," Augustus said, his voice cold and controlled despite the rage that simmered just beneath the surface.
The thin wizard nodded slowly, his eyes flat and emotionless. "Two targets. Deaths need to look accidental. No connection back to you."
"Exactly." Augustus leaned forward slightly. "Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour. I want them both dead before this ridiculous tournament is done."
"Potter's a difficult target," the wizard observed neutrally. "Boy Who Lived. Always has people watching him. Security around him will be tight."
"I'm aware of the difficulties," Augustus said through gritted teeth. "That's why I'm paying you the exorbitant sum we discussed. If this were easy, I'd do it myself."
The thin wizard's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "Can't do it yourself. Too obvious. Your boy just got sent to Azkaban because of Potter. You make a move against him, Ministry comes down on you hard."
"Which is why this conversation is happening in the first place," Augustus replied coldly. "I'm not a fool. I know the risks."
"Do you?" The wizard moved to the grimy window, staring out at the dirty street beyond. "Because from where I'm standing, this reeks of emotion. Personal vendetta. That's dangerous in this line of work."
Augustus felt his jaw clench. "My motivations are my own concern. Your concern is completing the job I'm paying you for."
"My concern is not getting caught," the wizard corrected, still not turning around. "Or killed. Potter's got a reputation for being tricky. And the Delacour girl is a Triwizard champion from another country. Her death will cause an international incident."
"Then make it convincing," Augustus growled. "That's what I'm paying you for. Make it look like a training accident, a failed spell, something that happens all the time in this bloody tournament. The dragon task already proved how dangerous this competition can be."
The wizard finally turned to face him, and Augustus saw the calculation in those flat eyes. "Double the price."
"What?"
"You heard me. Double the price, or find someone else." The wizard's voice was utterly devoid of emotion. "This is a high-risk job. Two high profile targets, one of them the Boy Who Lived himself. If I'm going to risk Azkaban, I want to be properly compensated."
Augustus wanted to argue, wanted to tell this insignificant piece of filth exactly where he could shove his demands, but he forced himself to remain calm. He needed this done, and finding another contractor at this point would be difficult. Most of the really skilled ones had either died in the war or gone legitimate.
"Fine," he bit out. "Double the price. But I want results, and I want them soon."
"You'll get results," the wizard assured him. "Method and timing are my choice though. I work on my own schedule."
"As long as they're both dead before the tournament is over."
"They will be." The wizard moved away from the window. "Payment up front. Half now, half when it's done."
Augustus reached into his robes and withdrew a heavily warded pouch. He tossed it to the wizard, who caught it with ease.
"That's half," Augustus said. "Count it if you want."
The wizard didn't bother. He simply tucked the pouch into his own robes and nodded once. "I'll be in touch when it's done. Don't try to contact me. Don't ask questions. And most importantly, don't do anything stupid that draws attention to yourself."
"I know how this works," Augustus said irritably.
"Do you?" The wizard's expression remained neutral, but there was something almost mocking in his tone. "Because from what I hear, your boy got himself caught trying to assault the girl in public. Doesn't exactly suggest the Flint family is known for its subtlety."
Augustus felt rage flare hot and violent in his chest. "My son was set up. Potter orchestrated the entire thing to destroy him."
"Maybe he did," the wizard agreed without any real interest. "Doesn't change the fact that your boy fell for it. Which makes me wonder if you're going to do something equally stupid."
"I hired you precisely to avoid doing something stupid myself," Augustus said coldly. "Now do your job and let me worry about my own behavior."
The wizard studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Your funeral. I'll make it look like an accident, like you want. Might take a little while to set up properly, but when it happens, no one will suspect anything other than tragic bad luck."
"See that they don't." Augustus rose from his chair, eager to leave this wretched place. "And remember, no connection back to me. Ever."
"That's the whole point of hiring someone like me," the wizard replied. "I don't exist. Never have. Never will."
Augustus moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the grimy handle. "Potter ruined my son's life. Destroyed everything my family worked for. I want him to suffer before he dies. I want him to know that he's not untouchable, that being the Boy Who Lived won't save him from consequences."
"That's extra," the wizard said flatly.
"I don't care what it costs," Augustus snarled. "Make it hurt. Make him regret ever crossing the Flint family."
The wizard's expression didn't change, but Augustus thought he saw a glimmer of something in those flat eyes. Interest, perhaps. Or anticipation.
"Can do," the wizard said simply. "Potter and Delacour. Dead before the second task. Maximum suffering, minimum evidence. Anything else?"
"Just get it done."
Augustus left the room without another word, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor beyond. He didn't look back, didn't spare another thought for the wizard he'd just hired to commit double murder.
All he could think about was Harry Potter's face when he'd testified at Marcus's trial. The satisfaction in those green eyes as Augustus's son was sentenced to Azkaban. The casual way Potter had destroyed everything Augustus had built, all his carefully laid plans for his family's future.
Well, Potter would learn what it meant to cross the Flint family. He'd learn that some debts could only be paid in blood.
And when Potter was dead, when that sanctimonious little bastard was nothing but a cooling corpse, Augustus would find a way to make sure everyone knew who was responsible. He'd find a way to reclaim his family's honor and show the wizarding world that the Flints were not to be trifled with.
The thought brought a cold smile to Augustus's lips as he stepped out into the London evening. Soon. Very soon now, Harry Potter would get exactly what he deserved.
And Augustus would finally have his revenge.
TBC.
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