The Slytherin common room glowed its usual murky green. Living beneath a freezing lake probably explained why half the house were cold bastards.
Watery light moved across the stone floor while Harry lay on his back, staring at the green curtains around his four-poster. He let out a slow breath as he felt the lingering soreness of his shaft. It was another reminder of how much his life had changed in just a few weeks.
Pansy, who had tried to blackmail his mother and ruin his life, had slipped through his bed curtains like a silent kitten before dawn as usual.
Now, with her arrogance stripped away and thoroughly broken by the degradation she had suffered when her blackmail backfired, she had silently crawled beneath his blankets. She had not protested or made any demands since her maid training began.
Instead, she had assumed her duties as a maid, using her soft mouth and eager tongue to wake him up every morning in the most submissive, desperate way possible, seeking some twisted form of approval and pleasure from the boy who now owned her in one way or another.
Harry shifted his hips, a dark, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Disturbingly, he was beginning to get used to this new daily pleasure routine.
He was no longer just the Boy-Who-Lived. He was slipping into something far more intoxicating.
At first, her obedience had unsettled him. Lately, he had begun to expect it.
And as the erotic fog slowly lifted from his mind, a colder sensation crept down his spine. The smirk faded. He pressed a hand against the cold stone wall next to his bed, straining his ears.
Over the past few days, beneath the sounds of the castle, he had been hearing it. A chilling, slithering whisper bleeding through Hogwarts' ancient plumbing. It made the hairs on his arms stand up.
Between the growing number of girls taking an interest in him and the suspicion that something in the pipes wanted to kill, Harry felt as though he were back on the same bloody knife-edge as last year. At least this year had its compensations. If this was the life of a hero, he supposed he was finally getting the full experience.
He shoved the thought aside, threw back the covers, washed his face, and charmed the worst of the creases from his robes. One pass of his hand through his hair accomplished exactly what it usually did: nothing.
By the time he reached the common room, the fire was roaring in the hearth and the usual morning chatter filled the dungeon. Several heads turned as he descended the stairs. Most looked away before he reached the bottom.
Most of the Slytherins had never quite known what to make of him. During his first year, they had treated him like an intruder who had somehow been Sorted into their house by mistake. That had begun to change after Draco's repeated attempts to put him in his place ended badly, and Harry proved himself on the Quidditch pitch. They had not accepted him, exactly, but open contempt had become harder to maintain.
***
From a plush armchair in the corner, Daphne's blue eyes watched him cross the common room.
A few weeks earlier, she and Tracey had seen him come downstairs at almost the same hour, red-faced and moving with an awkward stiffness. Daphne had tried to stop him. He had barely managed a greeting before cutting her off and hurrying through the entrance, leaving Tracey's laughter to follow him into the corridor.
He had looked thoroughly flustered that morning.
He did not look flustered now.
His robes were unusually neat, with the worst of the creases charmed away, and there was more colour in his cheeks than she had seen in days. A small, private smile lingered at one corner of his mouth. It was not the relief he sometimes wore after escaping trouble, or the satisfaction that followed a good Quidditch practice.
Harry looked pleased with himself.
That was what held her attention. The Harry she knew rarely entered the common room without checking who was in it. Even among people he trusted, some part of him remained alert, as though he expected kindness to turn without warning. After what had happened on Halloween, Daphne had expected that habit to become worse.
This morning, the caution was nowhere on his face.
He seemed almost pleased by the prospect of the day ahead.
It was the same pleased look she had occasionally noticed on some older seventh-years during certain Hogsmeade weekends. Lately, Harry had begun wearing it too, usually after disappearing for hours and returning with an excuse that explained very little.
Daphne's eyes darted to the other Slytherin who had changed the most in the dungeon. Pansy usually claimed the chair nearest Draco, with Crabbe and Goyle planted on either side like bookends. She forced herself into every pompous conversation, laughed too loudly at his remarks, and glared whenever another girl stopped near him.
This morning, she sat curled into an armchair while Draco complained beside her.
He had already repeated himself once, each time a little louder. Pansy had not answered. Her dark hair had been tied back carelessly, several loose strands falling around her face, and a faint flush still coloured her cheeks. She didn't spare a single glance for the boy she used to follow around like a lovesick puppy. The change was so abrupt that even a walking vanity like Malfoy noticed it too.
Beside Daphne, Tracey shifted until her shoulder pressed firmly against her friend. Her sharp brown eyes darted between Harry, Pansy, and then to Daphne's worried face. Slowly, a wicked, knowing smile stretched across her face.
"Look at Parkinson," Tracey whispered, her breath hot against Daphne's ear. "She's been purring all morning. Barely said two words to her, Draco darling. Makes you wonder, doesn't it, Daph? What exactly is the secret of her sudden... change?"
Daphne kept her jaw tight. She deliberately turned a page in the Charms textbook she had not actually been reading. "I have no idea what you mean. Parkinson is simply looking for Draco's attention."
"Oh, come on," Tracey purred, fanning the flames with expert precision. "Harry comes down looking like he just won the Quidditch cup, and Pansy looks like she is the reason why. You can't tell me you don't see it."
"Harry is not like that," Daphne said sharply, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. She closed her book with a soft snap. "We've been friends since childhood. He wouldn't just... he wouldn't be sneaking around with that pug-faced bitch of all people."
"Right. Childhood friends," Tracey mused, leaning back and inspecting her fingernails. "Well, whatever they are, he certainly isn't spending those late nights playing Gobstones with you anymore, is he?"
The words struck a nerve, burying themselves deep in Daphne's chest. A hot, ugly spike of jealousy flared in her stomach. She hated the way Harry had been keeping secrets from her.
She hated the idea that Pansy of all… The shrill, irritating Pansy might know something about Harry that she didn't. Daphne was a Greengrass she didn't sit on the sidelines while other girls claimed what she had her eyes on.
Determined to regain her footing, Daphne stood up, smoothing the front of her skirt. She walked across the common room, intercepting Harry just as he was heading toward the stone exit of the Slytherin common room.
"Morning, Harry," she said, her voice smooth and carefully modulated, though her eyes searched his face for clues.
Harry blinked, pausing. "Morning, Daph. You're up so early today."
"So are you," she countered smoothly. She took a half-step closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. The scent of soap, shampoo… musk, and something distinctly feminine made her heart skip a beat, but she kept her expression perfectly blank.
"I was thinking... we haven't spent much time together lately. Maybe in the evening we could use the study in the library? Or use your cloak to sneak out to the Astronomy Tower like last year? Or we can find an empty classroom to duel?"
She let the invitation hang in the air, her tone heavily implying that studying was the last thing on her mind. She waited for him to smile affirmatively, to look at her the way he had just been looking at the empty air.
Instead, Harry shifted his weight, looking genuinely apologetic but entirely evasive. "I can't tonight, Daph. I've got... something important to do. A prior commitment."
Daphne felt a cold rush of rejection for the first time. A prior commitment. He didn't name who or what, but she didn't miss the way his green eyes flicked briefly over her shoulder, landing squarely on the corner of the room where Pansy and Draco were sitting.
The jealousy in Daphne's chest tightened into a hard knot. She opened her mouth to press the issue, to demand to know exactly what prior commitment he could possibly have that was more important than her, but Harry spoke first.
He tilted his head toward the far corner of the room, his voice deliberately casual. "What exactly is going on with Malfoy this morning? He's whining even louder than usual."
Tracey, having seamlessly glided over to stand beside Daphne, chimed in before Daphne could answer. A wicked, highly amused smirk played on Tracey's lips as she watched Draco scowl at an entirely unresponsive Pansy.
"Oh, it's nothing much," Tracey said loudly enough for the words to carry slightly over the crackling fire. "The young master just hasn't been ass-kissed quite as much as he wants lately. Seems his favourite lapdog has found better things to do than massage his ego."
Harry let out a low, breathy chuckle. The sound sent a shiver straight down Daphne's spine. It wasn't his usual boyish laugh; it was dark, knowing, and entirely too different from the Harry she knew.
"Right," Harry murmured, his eyes flashing with an unspoken secret. He turned his attention back to Daphne, his expression softening just a fraction, though the dominant edge remained. "Look, I really am leaving now. But... I'll meet you tonight. For whatever plans you have in mind. I'll bring the cloak too."
Daphne's breath caught in her throat. The sudden reversal sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. "Tonight?" she echoed, her previous irritation momentarily derailed by the promise in his tone.
"Tonight," Harry confirmed with a final, lingering look. Without another word, he adjusted the strap of his bag and strode confidently out of the common room, the concealed stone entrance closing behind him.
Daphne stood frozen for a moment, a triumphant flutter replacing the knot of jealousy. He had said yes. He was going to meet her.
But her victory was agonisingly short-lived.
"Are you even listening to me, Parkinson?!" Draco's shrill, aristocratic voice suddenly echoed across the dungeon. "I said, fetch my bag!"
Pansy, who had been staring dreamily at Harry, finally snapped. She stood up so fast her chair scraped harshly against the stone floor. Her face twisted into a mask of pure, vicious disdain that made Draco physically recoil.
"Get it yourself, you pathetic little ferret," Pansy spat, her voice dripping with an intense, euphoric venom. "I am done listening to you."
Leaving Draco standing there with his mouth hanging open in shock, Pansy spun on her heel. She didn't look at Daphne or at Tracey. She just marched straight toward the door with singular, frantic purpose and slipped out into the corridor, following the exact same path Harry had taken just seconds before.
The common room went dead silent.
Tracey let out a low whistle. "Well, well, well... Isn't that interesting?"
Daphne's heart pounded against her ribs. The triumphant flutter in her chest vanished, instantly replaced by a boiling, toxic cocktail of scorn and suspicion. Pansy wasn't just acting strangely. She was following him. And Harry had been looking at her before he left.
He told me to wait until tonight just to get rid of me right now, Daphne realized, her hands balling into fists at her sides.
"Cover for me," Daphne hissed to Tracey, her icy blue eyes narrowing dangerously as she stared at the closed portrait door.
"Where are you going?" Tracey asked, though her grin made it clear she already knew.
"I'm going to see exactly what Harry's 'prior commitment' really is," Daphne whispered.
Daphne pulled her robes tighter around her shoulders and slipped through the entrance before the stone wall sealed behind her.
By the time she reached the corridor, Pansy had already disappeared around the bend.
Daphne quickened her pace, but there was no sign of her by the time she emerged from the dungeons. Searching the castle blindly would get her nowhere. Hogwarts had too many corridors, staircases, and forgotten shortcuts for that.
The Great Hall was the obvious place to look first.
Breakfast was well underway when Daphne entered. The usual carol of chattering rolled through the hall beneath the enchanted ceiling, cutlery striking plates, benches scraping against the floor, conversations carrying between the four long tables.
She stopped near the doors and searched the Slytherin table.
Harry was not there.
Neither was Pansy.
Daphne checked the other tables, though she already knew she would not find them. Hermione sat beside Neville at the Gryffindor table, pointing out something in an open book while he listened with a worried frown. Harry was not with them either.
The duo had missed breakfast. But for why?
The suspicion that had followed Daphne from the common room tightened beneath her ribs.
She turned and left before anyone noticed her lingering.
The entrance hall was almost empty when Daphne returned. Most students were already at breakfast, and the few stragglers crossing the flagstones were in too much of a hurry to notice her. She moved away from the open doors of the Great Hall, stopping where the marble staircase blocked her from view, then drew her wand.
"Point Me, Harry Potter."
The wand twisted sharply in her palm before settling towards the broad staircase leading to the first floor.
Daphne fixed the direction in her mind, lowered her wand and cast the charm again.
"Point Me, Pansy Parkinson."
The wand spun once before pointing the same way.
For a moment, Daphne remained where she was, staring at it. Then her fingers tightened around the handle, and she began to climb.
At the first-floor landing, she checked the charm again. It directed her towards one of the staircases leading farther into the castle. She repeated the spell at every landing and whenever the route divided, first with Harry's name, then with Pansy's.
The answer never changed. They were somewhere ahead of her, and they were still together.
The farther Daphne climbed, the thinner the morning traffic became. The sounds of breakfast faded below her, replaced by the occasional groan of a moving staircase and the soft brush of her robes against the stone steps. She waited once while a staircase shifted into place, then continued upwards as soon as it connected with the next landing.
By the time she reached the fourth floor, the corridors were almost deserted.
Morning light filtered through the narrow windows, leaving long stretches of stone in shadow. Daphne raised her wand at the next junction.
"Point Me, Harry Potter."
The tip turned towards a side passage lined with classrooms no longer used for regular lessons.
She cast the charm again with Pansy's name.
The wand pointed along the same passage.
Daphne continued more slowly.
Near the far end stood a heavy oak door. The tracking charm drew the tip of her wand directly towards it.
She stopped several paces away.
The door was shut, but the thick wood could not entirely conceal the low aches of moans beyond it. Daphne could not hear the sounds coherently, only the faint rise and fall of two voices beyond the thick door. The tracking charm tugged her wand towards the room.
Harry and Pansy were inside, for sure.
The confirmation tightened something beneath her chest.
She approached carefully, placing each foot so her shoes would not scrape against the flagstones. At the door, she paused and glanced back along the empty corridor. No portraits overlooked this stretch, and no footsteps disturbed the silence.
Daphne raised her wand towards the latch and hinges.
"Silencio."
The charm settled over the door itself, smothering any creak from the hinges or click from the latch. She tested the handle gently. It was locked.
Of course it was.
"Alohomora."
The lock yielded without a sound.
Her fingers remained on the handle, but she did not open the door immediately. Harry had kept secrets from her before. She had resented them, argued about them, occasionally tried to pry them loose, but she had never followed him through the castle and broken into a room to discover one.
She could still walk away.
Then she remembered the look he had exchanged with Pansy in the common room, and the certainty with which Pansy had followed him.
Daphne eased the handle down and opened the door by the smallest possible amount. The silencing charm swallowed the faint movement of the hinges. A narrow line of the classroom appeared through the gap.
Daphne leaned closer, barely breathing, and peered through the narrow gap.
The sight hit her like a bludger to the ribs.
Harry sat perched on the edge of an old teacher's desk, his school robes parted carelessly at his crotch. His cock stood hard and proud between his spread thighs. Pansy knelt submissively between his legs, her face bouncing eagerly on his shaft. Her dark hair swayed with every desperate motion as her lips stretched wide around him, wet, obscene sounds of sucking and slurping filling the otherwise quiet room. Strands of saliva dripped from her chin onto the stone floor as she took him deep, throat working visibly.
"Wasn't morning relief enough to empty these balls, Harry?" Pansy whimpered around his cock, the words muffled and broken but dripping with needy submission. Her right hand was frantically buried between her own thighs, and fingers twiddling her swollen clit in desperate circles.
Harry let out a low groan. His hand tightened in her hair for a moment. "You know it's never enough anymore," he said, his voice husky. "Now stop talking and use that mouth like a good maid."
The sight stopped Daphne cold. Worse was the immediate, humiliating certainty that it should have been her.
Instead of running away, Daphne burst into the classroom, fury blazing in her icy blue eyes.
"Harry James Potter, you idiot," she spat, voice trembling with rage and hurt. "You're letting this desperate Parkinson whore spread her legs for you to relieve yourself while I was so worried about you?"
Pansy, still gagging on Harry's thick cock with her lips stretched obscenely around his shaft, pulled back just enough to smirk up at her, saliva glistening on her chin. "Desperate? Please. At least I'm not too proud to beg for it. Look at how hard he is for me, Daphne. I bet you want to hog it all for yourself, don't you?"
Harry watched Daphne's flushed, furious face for a moment without stopping Pansy. He slowed Pansy's frantic bobbing with a firm grip in her dark hair, his green eyes darkening with clear arousal as he took in Daphne's flushed, angry face. Without a word, he delivered a sharp slap to Pansy's cheek.
"Know your place, maid," he ordered, voice low and commanding. "Keep sucking it like you're told to."
Pansy whimpered at the slap, her submissive side flaring instantly as she dove back down onto his cock with renewed hunger.
Daphne's dominant side emerged to hide the insecurity burning in her chest. She wasn't as experienced as the others, but jealousy was driving her now. If Pansy thought she was going to stand there and watch her claim Harry without a fight, she was badly mistaken.
She stepped closer, hiking up her skirt with shaking hands.
"If Pansy is your maid," Daphne declared, voice steadying with growing authority, "then she'll serve her mistress properly too. I don't think you should have a problem with that, right?"
"Mistress, is it?" he said in an aroused voice. The corner of his mouth curved in bliss.
Pansy tried to pull off him long enough to speak, but Harry kept her right where she was, the head of his cock resting heavily on her tongue. Saliva ran down her chin in a thin string.
Daphne stepped closer, the click of her shoes the only sound besides the wet noise of Pansy's mouth. "I'm not asking permission for a maid from you," she said. Her voice had steadied; the icy confidence was back in her tone. "I'm telling you how this is going to work. She serves me as well. Or she doesn't get to serve you at all."
Harry studied her for a long second. Then he gave a single, slow nod.
"Fair enough." He looked down at Pansy. "You heard your new mistress."
Daphne looked down at Pansy and ordered, "Lick my pussy, you harlot. And hands off your cunt. Put them on the floor."
Pansy obeyed at once, spreading her thighs on the cold stone, palms flat. Her skirt was already rucked up around her waist by Harry. The pale skin of her bare arse and the dripping folds between her legs were on full display.
Daphne moved in until she stood right beside the desk. She looked down at the girl who used to sneer at her in the corridors, then up at Harry. Without another word, she reached out, took a fistful of Pansy's dark hair, and slapped her other cheek hard.
Pansy gasped in surprise.
"Look at me," Daphne ordered.
Pansy did take a serious look at her new mistress now.
Daphne leaned down until their faces were inches apart. "You're going to put that tongue of yours to better use from now on. You're going to bugger my cunt with your tongue until he fills that greedy hole of yours. Understand?"
"Yes, mistress," Pansy whispered. The word came out shaky, almost grateful.
Daphne released her hair. "Then get to work."
Pansy shifted around on her knees to face Daphne. The movement finally took her away from Harry, leaving him sitting on the edge of the desk behind her.
Daphne stepped between Pansy's parted knees and gathered her skirt higher, while Harry slid down from the desk. He moved in behind Pansy as she settled herself on her hands and knees between them.
Whatever hesitation remained in Pansy disappeared as Harry stretched her harder from behind, his hips snapping forward with deep, possessive thrusts. "Do as you're told, and you'll always get your regular reward," he growled.
Pansy moaned in surrender and began licking Daphne's slick folds with eager, obedient strokes of her tongue.
Daphne adjusted her stance slightly, as the sweet pleasure from Pansy's hot tongue crept up her spine. Her breath hitched for a second, but her fingers stayed in Pansy's hair, keeping her exactly where she wanted her.
Harry leaned forward over Pansy's back. Daphne met him halfway, bending towards him until their mouths met for the first time. The squelching, wet sounds of Pansy's tongue and Daphne's both sets of lips filled the classroom.
Harry broke the kiss and drew back, his eyes lingering on Daphne for another moment before he shifted his attention back to Pansy.
He began to pound her deeper, each thrust jolting her forward against Daphne's cunt.
Pansy's muffled moans grew louder, higher, more desperate. Her tongue faltered for a second under the force of the new rhythm, then redoubled its effort as if the harder fucking only made her hungrier to please.
Harry's free hand came down in a sharp, open-palmed spank across one pale cheek. The crack of skin on skin rang out. Pansy's whole body jerked. Her walls fluttered wildly around him.
He brought his hand down again, this time across her other cheek. That second impact was all it took. Harry buried himself to the hilt with a rough groan and came hard, in her pulsing womb in viscous hot spurts. The sudden flood of heat and the residual sting of the spank sent Pansy over the edge an instant later. She spasmed violently around his cock, thighs shaking, a broken cry vibrating against Daphne's folds as her orgasm ripped through her.
For a few seconds, the only sounds in the classroom were their uneven breathing and Pansy's muffled whimpers.
Daphne's fingers tightened in Pansy's hair. Her blue eyes narrowed, the flush of arousal now edged with clear irritation.
"She came first," Daphne said, voice sharp. "A maid enjoying her master's cock before her mistress." She gave Pansy's hair a warning tug. "How dare you finish before me!"
Pansy whimpered in apology, still trembling, tongue still dutifully working even as Harry's seed began to leak down her thighs.
Harry pulled out slowly, watching the mess he'd left with pride. He straightened and stroked his dick, then looked at Daphne properly. The dominant edge in his expression softened just a fraction, replaced by something mischievous.
"You're right," he said. "That's not how this works."
He stepped around Pansy, who stayed on her hands and knees, head still held between Daphne's thighs by the other girl's grip. Harry moved in close, one hand settling on Daphne's waist, the other tilting her chin up so she had to meet his eyes.
"It's the master's job to make sure his mistress enjoys herself." His voice was husky and completely certain. "So that's exactly what I'm going to do."
Daphne's fingers finally loosened in Pansy's hair. She gave the strands one last warning tug.
"Better not be a next time," she said, voice low and sharp. "Or there will be no more rewards for you."
Pansy nodded quickly, still panting from her creampie, and stayed on her knees as Daphne stepped back.
Harry watched her, his cock still half-hard and glistening with the cream he'd left inside the maid. He reached out, took Daphne's wrist gently, and guided her closer until she stood between his thighs. His hands settled on her hips with careful pressure.
"Are you ready?" he asked quietly.
Daphne's cheeks burned. For all the authority and jealousy she had thrown around only moments earlier, she suddenly found herself unable to think of anything clever to say. She nodded once meekly.
Harry didn't rush. He helped her climb onto the desk, guiding her until she straddled him. One hand steadied her waist while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, holding it steady as she lowered herself. The blunt head pressed against her pussy. Daphne bit her lip, then pushed down slowly.
The stretch burned, and the dick was far thicker than she had imagined it to be. A sharp gasp tore from her throat as the head slipped inside. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she kept going, determined, sinking lower inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her. The pain was sharper, but she refused to stop halfway.
Harry stayed still, letting her adjust, his hands steady on her hips. When she finally opened her eyes again, he began to move slowly with careful thrusts at first, then firmer as her body started to accept him.
Daphne's hips answered with an inexperienced eagerness. A fierce rhythm took over, driven by her own desperate desire to prove she was better than the maid who had been bred before her eyes.
She leaned in and kissed him hard, her hands clutching his shoulders for balance. The pain gradually softened into a deep, throbbing pleasure that made her moan against his mouth. She started riding him harder, taking him deeper with every bounce.
"Maid," she ordered breathlessly, voice shaking with the effort of keeping control, "kneel behind me and lick my ass. Punishment for cumming without permission."
Pansy crawled into place at once as if a bitch on command. Her tongue pressed against Daphne's tight ring, licking and rimming with filthy enthusiasm, then dipping lower whenever Daphne rose so she could lap at Harry's heavy balls as well.
Daphne's moans grew louder, more vocal, edged with jealousy and fierce possession. "He was supposed to be mine first…" she gasped against Harry's lips, riding him with increasing urgency, "but if you're going to be his maid, then you'd better remember who comes before you..."
The classroom filled with the wet sounds of skin, the soft wet noise of Pansy's tongue, and Daphne's increasingly sensitive moans. Harry remained mostly silent, his cock stretching her deep with every thrust, hands guiding her hips while she took what she needed.
As an inexperienced maiden, her orgasm hit first. Daphne kissed him desperately as it crashed through her, whispering against his mouth, "Do you like me?" Her walls clenched tight around him.
Harry's grip on her hips tightened in answer. He drove up hard and came with a low, rough groan, flooding her clenching pussy with a powerful creampie full of hot, thick seed.
Daphne trembled in his arms through the aftershocks. Harry held her close, one hand stroking her hair with surprising gentleness.
"You've always been special to me, Daph," he murmured softly against her temple. "A maid can't change that."
Daphne closed her eyes against his shoulder and let herself believe him.