Witch Weekly 8th Edition: Magic Hands/Clear Heads (Patreon)

Magic Hands/Clear Heads

Featuring: Harry Potter, Penelope Clearwater

Tags: Massage, Feet, Fingering

There was so much more to magic than death and destruction.

Yet after Voldemort’s fall at my hands, it seemed the only options my future was offering led down those same paths.

Did I return to Hogwarts for a last year and do my best to ignore its devastation - both by the reminders that were there, and the many more that weren’t? Or did I throw myself in the line of fire again by becoming an auror?

In the end, I chose neither. For once, I wanted to use my hands to heal and not hurt.

Becoming a healer would have been a natural conclusion if that was my thought process, but the reality of the situation was that I didn’t have the education to pursue it.

Neither in the magical world nor in the muggle world.

It was Mrs Weasley that gave me inspiration. Racked with indecision, I’d confided in her my dilemma. She didn’t have any answers for me, but did the very special thing that only Molly knew how to do, and gave me the world’s best hug.

In her embrace, I felt the world fall away, dragging away my anxieties with them. Love was powerful magic.

Though, ultimately I doubted that’s what Dumbledore meant by the power of love. I found a new way to heal with it.

I became Britain’s first and only magical masseuse.

“Magic Hands. Isn’t that a bit on the nose, Potter?” Asked my newest client, ministry jobber, Penelope Clearwater. Recommended to my establishment by her coworker and one half of my two best friends, Hermione.

“Maybe for witches and wizards, but for my non-magical clientele, the connotation towards my profession is necessary.” Plus, I did say magic had more to offer than curses and hexes.

Between Hogsmeade and Diagon, there were plenty of freshly empty plots I could have scavenged for my shop. But thankfully, I had the foresight to not limit my business purely to the magical side of existence. As long as I was discreet, I could perform any tricks I could imagine. And believe you me, my undesirable location hadn’t even deterred the lonely wives of incarcerated blood purists, either.

I’d found that I was incredibly good at what I do, and as a result, had become very popular with a large and varied population of women.

I guided Penelope into my warmly lit waiting room. I sat her down on one of my plush couches and handed her a steaming cup of herbal tea, along with my service menu.

She nervously took it and skimmed through.

I could see why Hermione had urged me to meet with her. She was slouched, her clothes were ruffled, her hair was in disarray, and the bags under her eyes were deeper than mokeskin.

Haggard. But I’d fix that.

“I…” she sighed. “This is all so foreign to me. I’ve never had a massage before. I don’t know what to pick.”

Her shoulders hunched further, and she grew more tense as she studied my menu. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. I plucked the menu gently from her grip and laid it face down on the table.

“Getting a massage is meant to be relaxing. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Since it’s your first time, here’s what I recommend: get the foot massage. You spend all day walking about. I’m sure you carry a lot of tension there.”

Her surprised and relieved eyes met mine. “That sounds perfect! What do you need me to do?”

I chuckled and ushered her into the back room where I did all the rub downs. “Nothing. Just sit back, relax, and let me take care of everything.”

With her hand in mine, I helped her on to the specialized massage chair. She jumped, but just as quickly settled as I shucked off her shoes and peeled off her back stockings.

Discarded apparel in hand, I neatly folded the cloth and placed her footwear in the shoe cubby I kept. Adjacent to that was an ornate cupboard that held all my tinctures, potions, balms, and various other inconspicuous magical salves.

I grabbed two, returned to the seated Penelope and kneeled on the cushioned floor by her feet.

I showed her the two vials I’d grabbed. I uncorked the first, releasing its pungent lavender scent into the air. I poured it over both her legs and began scrubbing. “This is a cleansing potion. All the dirt, grime, and dead skin will slough right off.” I circled her luscious calves with both my hands and scraped off the foam, leaving pristine, soft skin.

“Evanesco.” I incanted under my breath, vanishing the dirty suds.

If it weren’t for her shapely legs held firmly in my grasp, I’m sure she would’ve hopped right out of her chair. “That’s wandless magic!”

“Magic Hands, Penelope.” I joked, but kept my voice low, quiet, and soothing.

I carefully cupped her heel. My thumbs made small, circular motions. My hands glided along the arch of her dainty little foot, applying just enough pressure to ease the tension without causing discomfort.

She started off tense, but with each precise movement of my hands, she’d began to feel a soothing warmth spreading through her feet from the magic I produced from my palms. The sensation was like a gentle embrace, gradually releasing the knots that had built up.

Moving up to her calves, my skilled fingers worked in tandem, tracing the contours of her muscles. As I applied pressure with my thumbs, I could feel the subtle changes beneath my hands – tense knots giving way to relaxed fibers. The warmth of my touch elicited a soft exhale from Penelope.

I looked up at her. She’d shut her eyes, turned her flushed face to one side, and mewled softly with each knead of my hands on her silky legs.

I continued the massage, incorporating long, sweeping strokes and kneading motions. The texture of Penelope’s skin beneath my fingertips shifted from tense resistance to a more pliant suppleness.

Her breathing was picking up, her cute little toes wiggled in pleasure. Unbeknownst to her, the pleasurable feelings had clearly traveled up to her chest, where I couldn’t help but stare at her soft breast jiggling sumptuously with every deep breath taken. Her erect nipples threatened to tear out from her shirt.

The room was filled not only with calming music but also with the rhythmic symphony of her sensual moans, where tension gave way to release.

As I continued to work on her feet, I couldn’t help but acknowledge Penelope’s undeniable attractiveness. Her wavy hair, the graceful curve of her neck, and the subtle contours of her form all served to capture my unwavering attention.

Penelope broke the tranquility. “Oh, that feels amazing, Harry,” she murmured. Her voice shuddered and rasped erotically.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Wondering if Hermione had clued her into exactly what I did here, I shifted my hands further up her smooth legs. My oiled palms glided up her pillowy thighs, bunched up her short skirt, till my hand rested under her juicy cheeks, just inches away from her core. She inhaled sharply. “Shall I continue?”

I met her eyes for the first time since we started our session. Half-lidded and glistening. An atomic blush bloomed over the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks, and swam down to her cleavage. She bit her lips, closed her eyes again, and hummed. “You told me you’d take care of everything.” I felt her spread her legs.

I returned my gaze downwards. She lifted her hips. I rolled her skirts all the way up her waist, leaving her bare from the waist down. She’d neglected her underwear. Yes, she knew exactly why she came here.

“As you wish.”

My hands flowed upwards again. I smoothly raked my fingers over her trembling inner thighs, a river of gooseflesh following eagerly. Even before I touched the soft skin of her shuddering womanhood. Her heat breezed over my knuckles.

My thumbs gently moved up and down over the sensitive skin of her joints. It made her gasp and breathe faster in anticipation of my touch. The tip of index fingers fluttered over her labia. A grunt escaped her and her hips bucked, urging me to deepen my touch. I dipped low, stuck my middle and index finger between her crack and scooped the viscous flow of her arousal. Thoroughly coated after I slid my fingers over her wetness, I moved slowly up and down her slit, inching closer and closer with each motion towards her most sensitive spot.

I brought my thumbs in. I spread her soapy lips, revealing her pulsing clunge, and unveiled her throbbing, swollen clit. I pressed my thumb on it.

I felt her shift. She threw her arms over face, unnecessarily muffling her pleasured cries from me.

I played with her. With a soft but strong pressure, I tickled it, rubbed it, circled it, passed back and forth over it. All the while, her body squirmed and writhed as I strummed her like an instrument.

“Uuungh~” she melodiously groaned as I plunged two wet fingers into her sopping pussy. With a steadily growing tempo, I plunged my fingers into her. Back and forth, up and down, curling, twisting and scraping the meat of her hot coiling cunt, I drew every last drop of accumulated lust and stress out of her.

She lost control of her undulating hips. They bucked eagerly into me, begging for more and more affection. The sloshing of her essence swam in my ears as I dragged her into the final moments of her climax.

Closer and closer it came, till every last muscle in her body contracted. She exploded into a violent orgasm. Announcing it when she screamed her throat raw and squirted her essence.

My thumb left her over-sensitive nubbin, as she shivered and juddered in my firm grasp. Though slower, I continued pumping her. My other hand snaked over her mound and pressed down on her womb, drawing her orgasm out as long as she could handle.

She collapsed back into the chair. Her limbs fell, weightless.

The strain that had burdened her when she entered the room had transformed into a serene relaxation. A soft smile played on her lips as she surrendered to the soothing sensations, leaving behind the stresses of the day.

“Merlin… I needed that!” She sighed.

With an audible squelch, I extricated my pruning fingers from her pussy. “So, when would you like to schedule the next appointment?”