"Lean back," he ordered, accenting with a ferocious spank.
Penelope quickly obeyed.
Harry Potter pushed deeper, thrusting well past her cervix. Beneath her, lay Percy, his body ramrod stiff, the effects of a petrifying hex. His eyes were still moving, smouldering like hot coals. He looked angry, heart-broken. His eyes glistened, and his nose was running. He was also erect. The smallest lump in sweatpants showed, but it was evident. Guess the hex didn't really cover innate bodily responses.
Percy had a boner, and he had a really small dick.
A nauseating sight.
"Rub your clit," Harry Potter's sharp words snapped her back to her real task, pleasing her new master. Her fingers quickly found her slit and rubbed vigorously. That they were making out with her former boyfriend petrified on the floor beneath her only made it hotter. Within seconds, she was writhing, another orgasm surging through her. A quick jet of her squirt flew out, and hit Percy on the face. Harry cackled.
Penelope didn't care. She knew that she should, but she was too far gone. Instead she just rubbed harder, forcing herself into another orgasm.
"What are you?" He asked.
"I'm your whore," she answered, all too happy to give him what he wanted.
"What are you?" His grip tightened around her neck.
She choked. "I'm your whore."
"What are you?" He squeezed.
"I'm your whore, your slut, your fucktoy, whatever you want," she choked out, suffocating.
"Damn right," said Harry Potter. His fingers roughly pulled out and he slapped his hand down right on her clit. Penelope came, legs shaking, pussy squirting, as he squeezed the life out of her neck. Then, he released her. In a second, Penelope spun around, her lips around his manhood. She needed it. She plunged up and down recklessly, deepthroating him. His precum was heavenly. She was slurping, gagging. Her tits clapped as she sucked desperately.
Harry Potter laughed at her wantonness.
"Open your mouth."
Penelope held her mouth open, and pushed her tits together, trying to give him the best target for his cum. He burst like a dam, grunting viciously. The first shot hit her eye, sealing it. The next cumshot coated her forehead, then her cheek, then one of her breasts, one in her hair, other eye, forehead again, same cheek, other cheek, hair. He squirted a massive dump of jizz that filled her mouth completely. Her other breast got a coat, one to the chin, both eyes at once, and then more on her hair and mouth again. She was completely covered.
Harry Potter laughed, and gestured at Percy. A wet stain had appeared where his boner had been.
"Maybe you'd like to give him a kiss?"
Penelope looked at the self-conceited, cocky, arrogant bastard that was her ex. She grabbed his face, and bent down, ready to give the conceited, son of a bitch, a cum-stained kiss. Percy's mouth opened and screamed out loud in the voice of Hermione Granger.
"This isn't fair, Harry! How can you do this to me?"
Penelope blinked.
….
….
" —RRY! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME?"
Penelope jerked awake, and found herself on her work desk. Damn it. Had she fallen asleep there while working? Harry Potter had given her a small office three rooms away from his own, to keep her from being late if nothing else. She looked down and found a bunch of papers on the desk that she had been working on, half of which were now soiled from her drooling during her impromptu nap.
Bugger.
Then she felt something wet pooling on the chair she was sitting on and realised that she had wet herself while dreaming of her steamy encounter.
Double bugger.
Damn it. What was wrong with her? This was the third time in the last week that she had orgasmed mid-sleep and woken up to find herself drenched in cum. And every single time, it had been utterly realistic renditions of Harry Potter having his way with her in situations that could have been very much possible. Penelope wasn't new to lucid dreams, or visions, as Professor Trelawney claimed, but nowhere in Unfogging the Future was it written that a Seer could dream about potential futures of her getting ravished by the sexiest man alive. That said man was also Britain's most eligible bachelor and had already had his wicked way with her once only added credibility to her visions. So far, every single time she had dreamt of him, the dream had been an almost accurate representation of future events except for that one bit at the end.
Harry Potter had never once fucked her, despite all her dreams claiming to the contrary.
It drove her crazy.
"HERMIONE LISTEN —"
Penelope blinked. That was Harry Potter's voice. That meant he had returned from his trip to Bones Mansion. He was supposed to have gone there for a meeting worth 'ten minutes' with Madam Bones, the Director of Magical Law Enforcement. Including guest treatment and other noblesse oblige, it would probably extend to a couple of hours at most.
He hadn't returned the entire day.
Or the next.
Or the next.
Instead, he had sent a missive, a half-hearted apology at best, citing that his return would be postponed by a couple more days. Penelope had overheard Granger complaining about it to Susan, throwing a tantrum about Harry being irresponsible, and neither of them wanted to annoy him or Madam Bones by sending him an owl or worse, contacting him via Floo.
Jones had told Granger that if Harry Potter was taking his sweet time there, then surely things were going according to plan.
Penelope wholeheartedly agreed. That was just the kind of man he was.
Still… she couldn't help but wonder. A ten-minute meet-and-greet extending over an entire week?
Even Jones had been flummoxed at Harry Potter's response.
And now that he was back, Granger was doing the one thing she knew best. Throw a tantrum like an entitled little bitch.
A smug grin formed on Penelope's lips. Anything that annoyed Granger was a good thing in her books.
Slowly, cautiously, Penelope cast a silencing charm on herself, and then vanished the wetness from her dress, casting a quick freshening charm over herself. Nobody really expected her to be in her office this late and her room was in a far away section of the building, which explained why Granger wasn't being so vocal. Creaking the door open as silently as she could, Penelope peered outside, and glanced down the hallway. She knew she shouldn't snoop, but curiosity burned within her. Would a little peek hurt? After all, she was living in the same house as them, and had no intention of ever betraying Harry Potter, so what harm would a little eavesdropping do?
Besides, if Granger wanted things to stay confidential, she should have thought about using silencing charms, and if not, then at least have the presence of mind to talk about it in an open hallway.
Rationalising her decision, Penelope moved quietly down the hall to one of the guest rooms at the end of the path, the one right next to Harry Potter's office. She peered in, and found Harry Potter's profile against the burning fireplace, facing an angry Hermione Granger. He had no shirt on, immediately reminding Penelope of that night in the dungeon, and her pussy clenched. What would she not do to be in Jones's place? Part of her wondered if Harry Potter would be in a bad mood the next day, and if she could act a little extra clumsy? Maybe he'd unleash his pent-up aggression directly on her, giving her a repeat of the other day.
Or maybe… Her pussy clenched at the thought. Maybe this time he'd fuck her for good?
A girl could hope.
Part of her asked why she was approaching this the round-about way. It was no secret that Harry Potter was sleeping with Jones. And from what Penelope saw the other day, the Weasley girl was also in his fuck-buddy circle. There were moments when Penelope thought of directly propositioning the young man, but every single time she tried to make an attempt, she'd be wrought with all kinds of conflicting feelings and self-doubt. What if he rejected her offer? What if he didn't find her good enough? What if by offering to have sex with him, she ended up making him uncomfortable and found herself out of the job? Penelope knew that her fears were baseless. Harry Potter was a reasonable guy, at least compared to the others out there.
But she didn't.
Guess she wasn't a Gryffindor for a reason.
"How could you do this to me, Harry?" said Granger. "You're marrying Susan Bones? Why?"
Penelope blinked. Harry Potter marrying Susan Bones? That was a curveball she hadn't seen coming. She couldn't say she was close to the other girl, but liked to think that they shared a cordial acquaintanceship. Susan had even offered her a chance to work for her family firm that dealt with wardcrafting, but Penelope had rejected it out of stubbornness and pride. That had strained her relationship with the girl, but she still treated her with more respect than you could get as a muggleborn in Wizarding Britain. But that didn't mean that Penelope didn't know her. It helped that she was good friends with Hannah and Hannah was Susan's bestie.
Susan Bones made no secret of her dislike of Harry Potter. She had always treated him with a degree of suspicion that Penelope wasn't sure what he had done to warrant. She had previously thought that his being a parselmouth might have triggered a cautionary bias in the girl. But something had definitely happened this summer, because it felt like her dislike for him had evolved into genuine disdain. She had observed Susan's behaviour when Harry Potter had come to sit with her and Hannah for the very first time, and her mood almost always took a nosedive the longer he was sitting with her.
But then that incident with Draco Malfoy had happened, and something within the girl had changed. The disdain was still there, but there was something more about it. Interest, and a growing one, a curiosity to understand the Boy-Who-Lived's motives, especially in the light of his fighting Malfoy and his goons to save Penelope from humiliation. She had accompanied Susan and Hannah to the DMLE to support him, and for the first time, Penelope had seen Susan take an intense interest in Harry Potter. There was no doubt that she was attracted to him, whether that was because of his actions or something else, Penelope didn't know, but the dichotomy was interesting nonetheless. Maybe she had been reading too much into the matter, but Penelope often felt that Susan was using her antagonism as a replacement for a love confession.
It wasn't very different from young kindergarteners pulling the hair of those they got along with. Susan Bones did live a sheltered life after all.
And given that Harry Potter was now marrying her, it likely wasn't stretching the truth.
"Hermione," he said. "I haven't married her yet."
"Yet," said Granger. "But you will. You've signed a contract."
Obviously, it'd be a contract. He was a pureblood scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. What did this bitch expect? To hang on his neck as his wife? She might as well have expected him to jump down with a noose hung around his neck. Penelope saw the way his shoulders twitched and prepared herself for him to blow up.
Instead he sighed in resignation. "Because it's necessary."
"Why? Because fucking me, Tracey, Ginny and Hestia wasn't enough? You need more, don't you? Is that what I am to you? Just another pair of tits and arse to fuck? Just another pair of lips you want around your cock?"
Penelope felt a shudder down her spine. She was right. Harry Potter was a serial womaniser after all. Just like she feared. And why did that epiphany make her pussy clenched tighter?
"Harry," said Jones. Penelope almost gasped. She hadn't seen her there. "You knew this was gonna happen, didn't you? That's why you went to Bones Manor?"
"No. I didn't go to Bones manor to try and fuck Susan. And I certainly didn't go there because I wanted to marry her."
"But you did —"
"Hestia," he said, steel lining his voice. "It is crucial for my long-term plans."
There was a pause for a second.
"I see," she said. And that was that.
"Susan knows it, and believe it or not, she was the one that proposed to me, not the other way round." said Harry Potter. "And if it helps, I have Amelia's consent."
Amelia, not Madam Bones. Penelope took quick note of that. Whatever meeting they had must have been significant to get him on a first-name basis with the DMLE Director.
No doubt Jones would have caught that slip as well. That bitch was a sharp one.
"Right because that makes things so much better," Granger scoffed, focussing on the unimportant. Stupid bint.
"Hermione, trust me Harry—" Jones began.
"Shut up! I don't want to hear you of all people trying to justify what my Harry did or did not do," snarled Granger.
And that, Penelope decided, was why everyone hated Granger so much. For her inability to appreciate nuance. Yes, she was being a massive hypocrite, but Penelope thought that she was better than the uppity muggleborn. At the very least, she wasn't foolishly arrogant like her. Without Harry Potter to save her arse, Granger would have been lynched.
"Hermione —"
"No, Harry!" she wailed. "Go away! Just… just leave me alone."
"I'm not going to do that."
The glare doubled.
"You told me I was special. You told me that no matter how many people you sleep with because of your nature, I'd always be special in your heart."
"You are special—"
"Is that why you agreed to marry Bones at the drop of a hat? Why? Because she's the niece of the DMLE Director? Because she's a pureblood that would fit right in place on the arm of Harry fucking Potter? Because the great Harry Potter is too high-born to marry werewolf Hermione Granger?"
"Yes!" snapped Harry Potter, and Penelope gasped, and then quickly checked to see if the silencing charm was still active. She quickly recast it.
"Yes! Dammit! Yes. I cannot marry you, because you're a werewolf. I'm Harry Potter of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and I need to follow the Potter Charter as the Lord of my family. And that Charter says that I cannot take anyone that doesn't fit a particular criteria."
"Like what? Like being a pureblood?"
"Yes," said Harry Potter coldly. "Like being a pureblood."
"That's a load of crap and you know it. Your dad married a—"
"Muggleborn," He snapped again. Clearly he was at the end of his sage-like patience. "And do you know where that got him? This close to being thrown out of the family. He had to leave the safety of Potter Manor and take shelter in a cottage in Godric's Hollow. You know, the same place where he and his wife got slaughtered like cattle by Voldemort?"
Granger flinched.
"Yes, my father loved a muggleborn and he married her. Unfortunately, I don't have the option. Every year, I've been hounded by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and I'm done fighting to survive. Now on, I'm fighting to put them down like the rabid dogs they are. And for that, I need to hurt them magically, financially and most importantly, politically. And for that, I need to make my House and myself stand out. And whatever I need to do, I will."
Penelope winced again.
"He's right, you know," said Hestia. "You cannot change the system without being a part of the system. You, Hermione, have always been sheltered ever since you came to Hogwarts. First with Albus Dumbledore's advocating of muggleborn rights, and then, by becoming Harry's best friend. They might say what they want behind your back, but no one would make a direct enemy of an Ancient and Noble House. And that goes doubly for the Boy-who-Lived."
"What do you know?" scoffed Granger. "You're just a —"
"A what?" snapped Hestia. "A slut that opens her legs for Harry? You know nothing, Hermione Granger. Take it from me. Daughter of a pureblood mother that fled away to marry a muggle. Yes, I'm a halfblood, but I was treated worse than a muggleborn. You… you've always enjoyed his protection. You don't get to judge us for what we are and what choices we make."
Damn straight, thought Penelope.
"What protection?" snarled Granger. "Draco Malfoy called me a mudblood in broad daylight in our second year."
Hestia threw her head back and laughed. "You think that matters? Wake up, Granger. For people like us, mudblood isn't a slur. It's a description. We're mudbloods. We.'re cattle. The British Ministry of Magic pulls us in using this dream of becoming a witch and learning the wonders of magic, and hauls us along through one contract and the other. You ever wonder how we pay back the education loan Hogwarts saddles us with?"
"Yes, we do part-time jobs," replied the oblivious mudblood. "The Ministry, the DMLE, the Department of Mysteries. If not for this curse, I too would —"
"Do nothing," scoffed Hestia. "For you can do nothing. You're just an uppity mudblood know-it-all with her head up her arse. Yes, you've got it worse now that you're a werewolf, but why does that matter when you're enjoying Harry's hospitality? You know what happened when my friend Chiara was turned into a werewolf? Her parents threw her out. Hogwarts threw her out. First in our entire year and Charms prodigy, and she had to resort to selling her body at Knockturn Alley to pay the loans. So shut up when I say you're an ignorant little halfwit."
Granger flinched.
"You've no idea how I was bullied as a kid. If not for Tonks, I…." Hestia's voice faltered. "If not for her, I'd probably have committed suicide from the fourth floor. Maybe it wasn't even a big deal for her, she was a superhero, even in school. Always standing up for what she thought was right, no matter the circumstances. She became my friend. She… was my hero, always has been. I used to look at her, and tried to become like her. If not for her, I'd never have become the person I became. And just so you know, I scored six Outstandings in my NEWTs and became so good that Barty Fucking Crouch noticed me, and made me Assistant. I worked for him for an entire year, and then you know what? One little incident with one of Malfoy's cohorts and I'm out on the street. Why? Because I was doing my job instead of bending backwards for the pompous fool."
Penelope felt a little ashamed. She had always thought of Hestia Jones to be a gold-digger that had spread her legs for the Boy-Who-Lived. She had never thought that the woman might have her own problems as well.
"This world needs to change, Hermione," said Harry. "You know just as well as I do that it's only a matter of time before Voldemort finds a way to return. The wrong people are still in power. If we want to bring real change, we need to bring about a fundamental shift in the wizarding government. The institutions will remain in place, but the people operating them will have to be removed."
"Removed," said Granger. "You mean kill."
"Taking decisive actions always costs lives."
Granger frowned. "And what about the people who die in the process?"
Harry shrugged. "It's the truth of all wars. Kill one to save ten. Let a hundred die so that thousands may live. Call it ruthless, call it unfair. It does not make it any less true. It's better to amputate a cursed hand than let the curse expand to the rest of the body."
"I'm not sure how I feel about that."
Harry stepped forward and hugged her. "I know. And Hermione, that's okay. But I'm not the same guy you spent the last three years with. That Harry Potter died that night with his godfather."
"Now you're just exaggerating…" Granger began.
"I'm not," he said. "I truly am not. Ask Hestia. She's got an entire dossier of Harry Potter facts collected over the past three years. She's been working closely with me on several projects that I've kept you out of."
"He's telling the truth," said Hestia. "If I had a galleon for the number of times I suspected he was an imposter, I'd have a new wardrobe."
Penelope rolled her eyes.
"Whatever happened with the dementors, it changed me, Hermione," said Harry Potter. "And not just magically. Yes, it made me an incubus, but that's the least of it. I've power now, way more power than I used to have. I'm also more comfortable with my magic. I'm more cynical, more cruel, more cunning."
"True again," Hestia chirped. "The Harry Potter in the files has a hero-complex. This one here is almost a monster."
"Don't call him that," Granger snapped.
Harry Potter laughed. "She isn't wrong, Hermione. The Harry Potter of old would have relied on Dumbledore to pave the way. I? I think that all Dumbledore has done is fuck things up."
"I think you're being unfair —"
"Am I, Hermione? Half the Wizengamot is composed of blood purists that flocked to Voldemort's banner at the promise of easy chaos before that bastard vanished in 1981. Yes, we won the war, but all those that supported his policies still hold them in place. The same people are in power. Lucius Malfoy was a member of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, and he's one of the most powerful people in this country. The way I see it, we're worse than where we started. All those deaths — Aurors, Hit-wizards, members of the Order of the Phoenix, my parents… all their deaths were for nothing."
His voice went from cold rationality to helpless frustration as he turned and smacked his fist against a stone pillar.
"Six months ago, I'd have been confused about what to do with this country. Now? Part of me just wants to butcher these scum wholesale and be done with it."
"Harry!" Granger began, scandalised.
He laughed again. It was cold, hard, and taunting. "Look at you. Despised as a muggleborn, cursed to become a werewolf, and yet, you're horrified at the idea of ending the lives of criminals that kill and torture for fun. Me? I'm sitting in the shadows, figuring out all the angles, including taking the time to laugh at the approach Dumbledore uses. It's been in the works since the start of summer, and trust me, when I make a move, it will be to not only win, but to obliterate all of them."
Penelope wasn't able to completely deny his words. The boy she remembered from Hogwarts was a far cry from the man who was her employer. That naivete, the emotions he wore on his sleeve, and the simple way he looked at the world, now felt alien when compared to the person she was working for and dreamt of every other night.
"Harry… What are you trying to do?" Granger asked slowly.
"I'm trying to fix this world, Hermione," he said, running his hands through her hair. A pang of jealousy surged through Penelope. Oh, what she wouldn't do to be in Granger's place right now!
"Amelia knows it, well, part of it, which is why I have her blessings for this marriage with Susan. But all of this, it's far greater than you or me or any of us. And there'll be a lot many things I'll need to do that you'd find uncomfortable if not downright nasty."
"What… will you do, Harry?"
The same question was running through Penelope's mind.
"Trust me. You don't want to know. Just understand that marrying Susan isn't the first outrageous thing I'm about to do, and certainly not the last one. And they're not because you, or any of the others, are any less important to me."
Granger faltered. "What happened to you, Harry? You — you weren't like this. I understand you took the path of the Incubi but… it's like with every single day, you're becoming something else."
"And does that… Do I scare you?"
Granger opened her mouth, and then closed it. Instead, she put her hands around his back. "No."
"No?"
"No."
"And why's that?"
"Because you're you. And that won't change."
Potter let out a chuckle. "Because I'm me. There's a very great irony in what you just said, Hermione."
Granger bobbed her head but said nothing. She just stayed like that, in his arms. Penelope fisted her hands. It was so unfair. Just what did Granger do to deserve him? Why couldn't she be in her place? What did she need to do to be in her place? There was absolutely no reason for him to stick with Granger and bear her uppity behaviour unless —
Penelope stiffened. Could it be that Harry Potter had a thing for exactly that? Come to think of it, hadn't she too been utterly stubborn back then, refusing his job offer at his face? Even Susan Bones, whom he was supposedly marrying, wore an expression of disdain whenever Harry was concerned. Perhaps high-strung girls were his type? It was a weird fetish but Penelope supposed it could have been worse.
If nothing else, this conversation had been illuminating, showing her a lot of what was happening behind the scene. Harry Potter was on the path of an incubus, a wizard that enthralled others through carnal satisfaction. Was that what her dreams were warning her about? Was that why she lost all control in his presence, and even if that was the case, did she really mind?
She'd need to think about this.
"And you?" Granger asked Hestia. "Where do you stand in this? I doubt you joined him to be part of this… conflict."
"Actually Hermione," said Harry Potter. "Hestia's more than just that. She's a member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, and was tasked to be my handler."
Granger took a double-take. "The Order of the Phoenix. Then… Dumbledore knows that you — you —"
"Dumbledore didn't personally send me, if that's what you're asking," admitted Jones. "I volunteered. Harry needed someone of a certain description and skill set, and I fitted the bill."
"So you've been spying on him."
"With his permission, yes."
Penelope blinked.
"Excuse me?" said Granger.
Harry Potter scratched his head. "It's a bit complicated. I caught her act the very first day. And she's taken the necessary oaths. We discuss what information gets passed on to the Order and I can access Order networks to get what I want. It's a win-win."
"And you don't care that she's a spy? She can be dangerous."
Hestia laughed. "It isn't complicated, girl. I'm on Harry's side. And if that means jackshit to you, I'm bound by oaths. Not that I need anything else except that cock of his."
"Stop joking," said Granger, turning purple.
"No joke," said Hestia seriously. "This incubus here has me enchanted with his cock. I'm sure you can relate to that."
Granger blushed.
"Speaking of which," said Hestia, turning to Harry. "You sir, have a date with Tonks due tomorrow at four-thirty sharp. She doesn't like lateness."
"Tonks, you mean that Auror?" asked Granger. "You're setting him up on dates with other women?"
Yeah, what was up with that? Penelope thought furiously. Hestia was his secretary and sex-slave, not his goddamn pimp.
"So, you did it, huh?" asked Harry.
"In record time too," gloated Hestia. "I'm antsy about how that will go through."
Granger shook her head. "I'll never understand you. You want him to keep fucking. You say Tonks is your hero. And yet you're pushing her into his arms?"
A shadow of something dark flashed across Hestia's face. "I am, and so what? You've got a problem with that?"
"Yes," said Granger. "Because that makes no sense."
Even Penelope agreed with her observation. Something just didn't add up.
"Too bad," said Hestia coldly. "It's my personal preference to see my bestie with Harry. Not everyone is as selfish as you."
"You—" Granger clenched her fists.
"Hermione," Harry Potter interrupted them before things could devolve further, "she's just trying to bait you to get you off the topic."
Hestia gave him a dirty look.
"Which," he continued, "is perfectly fine. I have my secrets, you have yours. You don't have to tell me, or anyone else, unless you want." He paused again. "That said, you didn't… pressurise her over this date, did you?"
Hestia arched an eyebrow. "What kind of person do you think I am? Tonks agreed to this date on her own accord."
Penelope blinked. Tonks, that strict auror that looked too sharp for her own good, had agreed to a date with Harry Potter? She had noticed the way the woman was looking at him back at the DMLE, and it wasn't a look of arousal, but of suspicion. The kind a policeman would give a suspect.
"You should have seen her the night she came to my place after visiting you. Her face was flushed. I had never seen her aroused like that. Not even with Weasley. She shut the door and fingered herself to sleep, moaning your name."
"Tonks was moaning my name in her sleep?" asked Harry. "I didn't think I had that sort of effect on her."
"Shows what you know."
"I thought she didn't want to be one of my conquests."
Hestia barked out another laugh. "You don't know the first thing about her then, Harry. Being a conquest is exactly what she wants. She wants to be chased, she wants to be made feel special. I don't know what you and Hermione did that night, but Tonks… She felt challenged. Trust me, she wants you more than you think. All she needed was a push, and I gave her that push."
"Crazy," said Granger, shaking her head. "Absolutely crazy."
"Oh I am," admitted Hestia, before turning to Harry with a bright grin. "That said, after you're done making love to her the first time, you'll invite me to your bed with her, right? Think you can manage a menage e trois?"
"I'll try," Harry said drolly.
"And if she has a problem with that?" asked Granger. "I doubt she'd like some other girl interfering with her personal time with her man."
Pot Kettle, Penelope thought, given what she had witnessed in the dungeons. Who knew the prim and proper high strung bitch swung that way?
"With her man…" Hestia repeated, smiling like a cherub. "I like the sound of that. But no Hermione, I won't be interfering. If Harry invites me to his bed, it'll be called sharing. And remember, I could be between him and her. Or he could be. Or she could be. I'm quite flexible."
Granger gave her an arched look, before snorting.
Lunatics… Penelope decided. Utter lunatics. And yet…
Do I really mind? So long as I get…
She gave a longing glance at Harry before moving away from the door.
— Punished?
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