"Would you repeat again, Mr. Potter, what you were doing here tonight?"
The den of Bones Manor had turned into an impromptu Auror's office, all without the owner in sight. Amelia Bones was upstairs in her bedroom, being tended to by a team of St. Mungo's best healers. Harry hoped it was going well.
By chance, the room chosen for his interrogation was the same one he first arrived in. The sole leather chair was taken by a big man with billowing hair, whose cane leaned against one armrest while his wand sat on the other. John Dawlish stood behind Scrimgeour on the right. Mirroring Dawlish's position was a man with a thick red beard, probably only a few years younger than Scrimgeour himself. That was Agustin Proudfoot. Harry knew him only by reputation, since the man went down fighting when Voldemort took the Ministry.
Compared to Amelia's luxurious personal chair, Harry had been given a hastily conjured wooden seat. He was still wearing his coat over a Muggle shirt and shorts, just as he had been when he burst into Bones Manor. Although he didn't feel like it, he gave Scrimgeour a smile.
"I was visiting Amelia. We'd been planning it all week."
Scrimgeour took a thick, leatherbound book out of the folds of his robes. Dawlish provided him with a quill while Proudfoot produced an inkwell. Before the quill touched the page, Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow. "If we were to ask Director Bones, I assume her story would match your own?"
"Obviously," Harry said. "I just said that we planned this."
"Of course, of course." Scrimgeour wrote something while the Aurors behind him watched Harry closely. "The Floo records indicate you arrived here very late."
"Almost three in the morning. I checked the clock as I left."
"You're very forthcoming with details, Mr. Potter."
This time, Harry was unable to keep the bafflement out of his voice. "Would you prefer it if I wasn't?"
"Of course not. It was merely an observation." Scrimgeour added a sizable entry to his notes. "What was the purpose of your visit?"
Harry didn't answer. Scrimgeour looked up.
"What was the purpose of your visit, Mr. Potter?"
"Why does a man visit a woman in the middle of the night?" Harry said. "Do you want me to spell it out?"
Scrimgeour watched him in silence. Harry laughed incredulously. "I'm saying I was here to have sex, if you're so insistent on putting that in your notes."
Proudfoot did a good job disguising his chuckle behind a cough. Dawlish looked close to drawing his wand, but then again, they were already poorly acquainted. He'd arrested Harry once, after all.
For his part, Scrimgeour added more to his notes. Harry was curious whether his words were actually being written out verbatim.
"You have a troubled history with the law, Mr. Potter."
"I disagree."
"You've been arrested."
"Taken into custody. If it was an actual arrest, you would've kept me. But I walked out in under an hour since there was nothing on me."
"Yes… Director Bones can be quite lenient."
Dawlish was openly glaring at Harry. The reminder of how he overstepped his authority would've struck a nerve anyway; it was extra touchy for him when Harry did it in front of his boss.
Scrimgeour closed the book he had been writing in. He set his quill and notes down on the armrest, picking up his wand instead. Leaning down, Scrimgeour rested his elbows on his knees, passing his wand back and forth between his hands. Harry watched the tip. He didn't like that it was pointed in his direction.
"Harry, when you arrived here tonight, you ran straight into the fight," Scrimgeour said. "Your first instinct wasn't to call the Aurors. You didn't get help. You approached dangerous criminals and threw yourself into the fray. Almost as if that's what you expected to find."
"If I went for help, I'd be talking to the Head of the DMLE right now," Harry said flatly.
All three of the Aurors frowned. Harry didn't know Proudfoot well enough to say what upset him. Dawlish, even if he had his grievances with her, disliked the implication that Amelia Bones might have died, and he hated the implication that a civilian was the reason she hadn't.
Scrimgeour was the sharpest of them. He understood that Harry knew he was the next in line for Amelia's position. If you squinted, Harry might've just implied Scrimgeour let this happen to get her position. He stopped passing his wand between his hands, holding it just in his right. His dominant hand.
"You believe you saved her life, then," Scrimgeour said.
Harry held his hands up and leaned back in his chair, making the shoddy wood creak. "Don't get me wrong, Amelia did most of the work. By the time I got here she'd beaten half of them. All I did was cast one spell and scare them off… so a little bit more than the Auror Department managed."
"You smarmy little—!"
Scrimgeour held up his hand, halting Dawlish's outburst. The Auror immediately went quiet, leading to Harry releasing a small whistle. Now that was a tight leash.
"I don't know how closely you follow politics, Harry," Scrimgeour said. "Recently, we've had a rash of trouble. Youths acting out, mostly petty crimes with a handful of outliers. At the same time, there are elements of our society spreading hateful rumors. They speak of war in a time of peace. Now, the director of the DMLE has been attacked in her home by unknown assailants. Tell me— between those two groups, which do you think is more likely to stage an anonymous attack? Some frustrated kids, or a group with a message, combat experience, and a vested interest in making people feel unsafe?"
"I couldn't rightly say. I'm just a Muggle Studies professor," Harry said. "But I wonder, if you asked Amelia Bones whether her attackers were anonymous, do you think she'd agree?"
"After a situation like this one, Miss Bones will need time to clear her head before she can make a level judgement."
"Not in the mood to call her director anymore, huh?"
Dawlish looked like he'd had enough of Harry, and it was questionable whether Scrimgeour would stop him this time, because the Head Auror's own eye was twitching. However, at just that moment, the door was opened by one of the healers.
"We've done what we could." He was an old man, easily into his eighties but spry thanks to his magic. "Madam Bones is awake and coherent. She's asking for him."
The healer pointed at Harry, who vacated his creaky chair.
"I've got to go," he told Scrimgeour. "Director's orders."
When Harry left the room, Scrimgeour was sitting with his wand out, frozen, staring at the wooden chair.
The master suite was all the way up on the third floor. On his way in, Harry passed another healer coming out, this one a young woman. Harry moved into the room and discovered Amelia sitting on her bed, a blanket over her lower body and her head turned to look out the window, treating him to her side profile.
Two stools had been brought in for the healers. Harry grabbed one, placing it beside the foot of Amelia's bed, and settled in to wait. She didn't immediately address him, so he took the chance to survey her room.
Just from the size of the ancestral home, you could tell the Bones Family wasn't lacking for wealth. Amelia's bedroom carried the elegance of old money, including charmed portraits of past family heads who were sleeping soundly on the far wall. Her bed was the four poster kind, although the curtains had been tied back. Harry didn't doubt the thick mahogany dresser he saw beside the window was expensive, but like in the den, most of the empty space was taken up by bookshelves. Amelia must have been an avid reader. The window that she was looking out of was wide and double-paned. Coincidentally, it looked onto the lawn where Amelia's last stand occurred. Wizards and witches in brown robes were sweeping the grass, clearing it of lingering dark magic. They were called Sweepers in the DMLE— specialists in curses and hexes whose job it was to clean up crime scenes. If dark magic wasn't dealt with by professionals, it was liable to take root in all manner of nasty ways.
"Thank you."
Harry looked at Amelia as she finally spoke, though she still didn't look at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the window.
"I told you before, didn't I? The Ministry needs you alive," Harry said.
"...You saved my life twice tonight," Amelia admitted.
"Twice?"
"I hired Curse-Breakers to strengthen my wards just a month ago. I wouldn't have, if it wasn't for a pesky Order of the Phoenix member who kept insisting I was a target. Tonight, those wards held out fifteen minutes longer than the previous ones would have. They gave me time to prepare. Then, you arrived here personally, just in the nick of time. How did you know?"
"Neville told me."
"How could he know?"
"He and the Dark Lord are linked," Harry admitted. "Fate has them all wrapped up together in more ways than I can even explain. Sometimes, he has visions when he sleeps. He came to my door in the middle of the night, crying that Susan's aunt was in danger."
"...Perhaps I'll have to thank him as well. And apologize. The entire Ministry owes him an apology, it seems."
"Other than you, they aren't going to want to give it," Harry warned.
Amelia clenched her hands, bunching her blanket. "You're correct. I expect they'll try to sweep this attack under the rug and pretend it was something other than what it was. However, the enemy has overlooked something."
"That being?"
"That they have fucked with Amelia Bones, and this now means war, whether they like it or not."
Harry blinked. He was unable to help it— he burst out laughing.
"Talking with you is so much more fun than Scrimgeour."
"He's here?" Amelia asked, unsurprised.
"Downstairs. Interrogated me about why I was here, right before insinuating that the Order are the ones who attacked you. Ah… If you hear anything about my sudden arrival here tonight being a booty call, I'm sorry. It was the best I could come up with."
Amelia shrugged, unbothered by the rumors Harry's excuse might spread. She was more focused on the first thing he'd said.
"Unless the Order of the Phoenix has recruited Bellatrix Lestrange in the past year, I feel quite certain of who attacked me!" she said.
"They'll say it was a fake. Or they'll find an excuse to say she was working on her own. How did she get out, by the way? Last I heard she was rotting in Azkaban."
Amelia scowled. "I don't know. I was under the same impression."
So it wasn't a mass breakout that had been covered up by the press. Somehow, at some point, Bellatrix had quietly slipped out of her cell. That would make her the first ever, seeing as Sirius was never locked up to need to escape in this timeline.
"Azkaban has been compromised. That, at least, I can investigate," Amelia said. "I'll need incontrovertible proof to expose Bellatrix's master, but I will find it. It's only a matter of time. Because now, I know that it's out there."
"That's what I like to hear," Harry said.
His joking tone faded as the two of them went silent. The Sweepers finished their work, heading into the manor to Floo back to the Ministry, but Amelia still hadn't turned her head, keeping it fixed toward the window.
"How do you feel?" Harry asked softly.
Finally, she turned to Harry. The blue eye that he'd seen fixed on the window was the only one looking at him. On the other side of her face, a nasty pink scar carved its way from her cheek up to her forehead, crossing her eyelid, which was glued shut.
"How do you expect?" Amelia asked.
Harry did offer words of pity, for he knew Amelia's type, and he understood she would find them useless at best, condescending at worst. "Dark magic?" he asked.
"The curse she used is designed to burn flesh. If it had done more than graze me, my head would've ceased to function in excruciating fashion." Amelia's tone was terse; clinical. "The healers did good work to limit the spread and mend what they could. I'm fortunate to have only been marred this much."
"Marred? I don't know, I think it makes you look kind of regal," Harry said. "Alastor Moody took a similar wound and it barely slowed him down.
"If you are looking to assuage a woman, don't compare her to Mad-Eye."
Harry stood up off his stool, walking closer. He leaned down in front of Amelia, who flinched back. That alone was a sign how hard she was taking this. In the past, he'd never seen her back down from anything.
Harry stroked his chin. Amelia shifted under his gaze.
"Still beautiful," he said.
Amelia stopped shifting. She tilted her head, emphasizing its new scar, all but daring Harry to contradict himself.
"Please, make your lies believable."
"I'm telling the truth, though."
"Then prove it," Amelia said flatly.
Harry touched her chin with his index finger. He looked into Amelia's remaining eye, waiting, and saw no resistance. So he kissed her.
It was the simplest way he knew of proving himself.
Maybe Marlene hadn't been wrong when she joked about sexual tension between the two of them. When their lips touched, the kiss rapidly caught fire, Amelia grabbing the back of Harry's head and their tongues crashing together. It was more explosive than even Harry had expected, causing him to pull back after a long string of seconds. Amelia let him go, but her hands remained fixed behind his head.
"Very well, I believe you," Amelia declared. "But I must warn you, Mr. Potter, you've strayed into dangerous territory. I am in desperate need of blowing off steam after a very long day. If you do not step away right now, I cannot be held responsible for what I do."
Slowly, a grin broke out on Harry's face.
"Put me to work then, Miss Director," he said.
Harry had encountered a few of them in his time— witches and wizards for whom dueling easily translated into other kinds of passion. It was surprisingly common among Aurors who regularly risked their lives.
The healers might've only been able to close the wound on her face, but they'd made Amelia's arm and ankle as good as new. At least, Harry assumed as much based on the strength she dragged him down with.
She pulled him on top of her, keeping their kiss going. She had been dressed in a bathrobe, which started coming loose during their erotic tussle. Amelia rolled Harry onto his back. With two fierce movements, she pushed his coat off of either of his arms, throwing it aside onto the floor. The commotion started to wake the portraits, but as soon as they started to stir, Amelia snatched her wand, which had been hidden among the folds of the blanket. One swish made the bed's curtains shoot closed.
The poster bed's curtains were yellow like a Hufflepuff tie. Amelia slid her hands underneath Harry's t-shirt and stroked his body. Her crotch came to rest on top of his, moving subtly. He felt her pinch his nipple.
Amelia's bathrobe hung open now, displaying the maroon bra she was wearing underneath. She dragged her hands off of Harry to untie the waist of her bathrobe, throwing it open and letting it slide off. Her panties were bright yellow, nothing like the color of the bra.
"A great many unexpected things happened to me tonight," Amelia said, when she caught Harry looking at her undergarments. "This is just one more."
She pulled his shirt off, helped by Harry who extended his arms for her. As soon as he was shirtless, Amelia moved her hips faster and fiercer. She grinded against him while planting her hands on his wrists, holding his arms against the bed. Amelia bent down, pressing her mouth into Harry's chest. While looking him in the eyes, she bit his nipple. She wasn't exactly gentle.
Amelia left bites all over Harry's chest. At the same time, she reached down, sliding her hands beneath the loose waistband of his shorts, grasping what was within.
The tugs Amelia gave his cock stung. Her hands moved with the force of a woman who'd recently fought for her life. That said, it wasn't to the point of being painful. She was forceful, but not violent as she molded Harry's manhood with her fingers and palm. It didn't take many strokes for him to reach his full size. Amelia sat up again, pressing her bodyweight down on his full-mast member and judging its size.
"This will do excellently," she declared.
Amelia pivoted. She turned her body around in order to push Harry's shorts off his legs. It left her pussy hovering above Harry's face, guarded only by her panties. At the same time that Amelia removed his legwear, Harry used a touch of magic to split her panties down the back, causing them to fall off her body.
Amelia looked back, Harry's shorts and boxers both down around his ankles. "Tit for tat, then," she said. "It's only fair."
She popped the latch of her bra, throwing it away as her breasts bounced free, then bent down onto Harry's cock. Her hands tilted it up and her mouth captured his tip, swirling her tongue around the circumference. Harry captured her hips in his grasp and busied his tongue, burying it in the pussy he was facing. As soon as his tongue made contact, Amelia dropped her hips, pressing her quim onto him.
Harry could feel her muff on his face. Amelia Bones was a busy woman without time or interest in trivial worries like shaving between her legs. Her pussy was naturally sweet, or at least the juices leaking from it were. Harry pushed his tongue deep inside her, then drew it back and found her clit.
Amelia was working her way down his penis one inch at a time, giving each section its own due justice. Her tongue circled around him, teasing Harry's skin. She ran the tip along veins, swiped it back and forth, and spelled out shapes as she gradually engulfed his manhood.
Harry's hands slid from her hips around to her ass. His fingers sank in deeper than he expected. Amelia's official robes hadn't done justice to her backside. He got a good grip and pushed her hips down, forcing her pussy onto his face. While Amelia's tongue teased his erection, Harry's played a fast and free game with her clit.
He made Amelia cum before she managed to get him to orgasm, which was only a small achievement. Really, tickling her clit for a handful of minutes had been enough to make her climax. He suspected that not only was Amelia thoroughly in the mood, it had been a long time since she was touched this way. Unsurprising, perhaps. For all her beauty she was an intimidating woman to most men, and she rarely spared time for things that weren't work-related.
The evidence supported Harry's deductions. When he made her cum, Amelia sprayed so much discharge down his throat that he nearly gagged.
From his time as her Hogwarts classmate, Harry could say that Susan Bones was most well known for her bust. He knew her by her kind personality and quiet loyalty… but such things didn't make nearly as good gossip topics as her cup-size.
He mentioned this now to stress that, despite her thinner and taller build, Amelia's breasts were, if anything, bigger than the ones an adult Susan Bones had sported. Harry wondered if she had to wear enchanted bras to lessen the stress on her spine.
He could feel them right now in exquisite detail. Amelia's melons were weighing down on his lower stomach, warm and cushiony with their tremendous size.
Amelia got six and a half inches down Harry's penis before she failed to advance further. She'd done better than he thought she might. Her stubbornness might've had something to do with it. When she started to hit her limit, she'd pushed straight through until she truly couldn't go any further.
She'd achieved enough though. By bobbing up and down his top six inches, she was easily able to make his balls swell, building toward an inevitable explosion. While Amelia worked relentlessly on his crotch, Harry brought her to two more orgasms. Each of them was almost as potent as the first. By the time all three had hit Harry's mouth, Amelia was the only thing he could taste.
Finally, his cock twitched and paid out its load.
Amelia didn't recoil, even as her mouth was filled with bitter liquid. She accepted the taste— maybe even relished it. When she lifted her head, she did so in a deliberate manner, already having swallowed most of what Harry produced.
There were no words from her. She twisted around, getting her now-soaked pussy on top of his cock.
When Amelia sank down, burying him to his hilt inside her snatch, she couldn't tamp down on a satisfied hiss. Her hips showed their approval seconds later as they started thrashing vertically. Amelia showed spryness befitting a woman much younger in age bouncing on Harry's manhood.
"Hah… Hah… Hah…" Harry panted, laying beneath her. Amelia made similarly loud exhalations. She planted her hands on his chest, her fingers squeezing down in a way that pinched his nipples. Harry was immediately distracted by her chest. Her lovely breasts were swinging even more than the rest of her body, jiggling each time Amelia bottomed-out on his cock.
She met his eyes, catching him staring as he admired not just her tits, but also her face, full of all the best traits of old pureblood breeding. Her hair was like a fiery mane as it shook about her head, bouncing as much as her breasts.
Amelia held eye contact. Harry was slightly confused, because it seemed like she was looking for something. He realized she'd caught him looking at her face. The jagged pink flesh over her inoperable eye was still visible, although Harry had barely noticed it.
Amelia was waiting for his reaction, seeing if he would prove his earlier words through his actions, or if he would recoil.
In the face of that, there was really nothing else that Harry could do.
As nice as it could be to lay there and let Amelia do her work, he surged up and took a more active role. His hands slid around her waist, grabbing her bum again. He pulled her forward, deeper into his lap, leading his tip to strike a new point inside of Amelia. Harry showed her what he thought of her beautiful body by burying his teeth into her marshmallowy breasts, looking her directly in the face as he did. Amelia hissed as when teeth locked onto her nipple.
She continued to ride him, pitching her body with all the vigor she could muster. Harry bent his knees and dug his heels into the bed behind her, driving his pelvis upward into her riding hips. The force that his dick speared into her with doubled in an instant, spreading tremors through Amelia's folds.
At the same time, Harry offered no quarter to Amelia's succulent breasts. His teeth were relentless in their affection— equal in vigor and force to the way Amelia had treated his own chest.
"Hurhh! Hurhh!" Amelia started to growl, her voice descending into a husky grunt. This lasted until their joint thrusting brought about an orgasm, at which point her voice rose in pitch, developing into a proper moan.
As their coupling grew more intense, Amelia's voice only raised in volume. She became so loud that her screams were guaranteed to reach the floor below them. He allowed himself a vindictive thought about Scrimgeour and his Aurors catching snippets of Amelia's voice. Let's see if they still wanted to doubt Harry's story after this.
But he couldn't bring himself to think about them for long. With Amelia perched in his lap, he'd much rather pay attention to her. Harry started lifting her, then driving her down, using nothing but the grip he held on her backside. Amelia's nails raked over his back, assuredly leaving scratches. In that way, she'd done more damage to him tonight than Bellatrix Lestrange managed.
Harry reluctantly left her breasts alone, moving to her neck instead. Harry left one single hickey, which he assumed was the limit of what she would allow, not wanting to spoil her appearance. Amelia's breasts were already thoroughly coated in the marks of his teeth. Harry sucked her neck and her hands slid up his spine into his hair; her nails dug grooves into Harry's black locks.
A tremendous scream tore out of Amelia, louder than any sound he'd ever heard her make. It was followed by an extended orgasm nearly ten seconds in length, after which Amelia's tense body went limp, with the exception of her pussy, which increased its constriction. Harry winced, barely lifting Amelia in time to hoist her off him.
Her body crashed down on his thighs as his cock slapped against her stomach, then shot its load. His cum splattered across her stomach and the underside of her breasts, dripping down her slowly. Harry watched the trails run down her body, right up until he was drawn into a sudden kiss.
Amelia ran her tongue through his mouth for ten seconds or more, then drew back enough to speak.
"Now that I'm aware of the truth, I'll need a liaison to work with the Order of the Phoenix," she said.
"I might be available for a job like that," Harry said.
"It wasn't an offer. Congratulations on your promotion," Amelia said flatly.
With that, she captured his lips again, refusing to let go.