Amour Et Officium Chapters 4 & 5. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Lingerie, Ice Play, Wax Play, Spanking, Humiliation, Squirting.

Chapter 4:

Harry and Daphne tiptoed down the hallway under the cover of his invisibility cloak, carefully feeling out each of the creaky wooden floorboards with their feet to make sure they didn’t make a sound that would give away their position. There was a time when the two of them easily fit under the cloak. Now, she had to press into his side, shivering with arousal every time his arm brushed against her chest as they walked.

Harry knew what they were about to do was reckless. Come morning, it would cause a massive shitstorm and they’d have to answer for it. A part of him wanted to call it off, to do what he had done his entire life and let fate take the reins. Daphne’s gentle hold on his wrist gave him courage, a reminder of what was at stake.

It had never been fate that held the reins. He had let Voldemort shape his entire life.

It was time to take back control. Remus Lupin had taken a lot of things from him, but he wouldn’t let the man take away his opportunity to call Daphne his wife.

They slowly made their way down the stairs, sticking to the wall to ensure they didn’t accidentally bump into someone coming the other way.

The pub was nearly deserted. Tom stood behind the bar, lazily wiping glasses and keeping an eye on the only customers that remained in case they needed something. Harry frowned at the sight of Mr. Weasley and Madame Bones sitting with Sirius, all three of them seemingly engrossed in a heated debate.

“How did you get past them?” Harry asked, turning to look at Daphne.

“I didn’t. They weren’t here when the Knight Bus dropped me off,” Daphne murmured. “The only people in the pub when I got here were a wizard and a banshee.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Harry finished their descent down the stairs, his turn towards the door behind the staircase that led to the entrance of Diagon Alley halted by Sirius angrily banging his fist against the table.

“He’s my godson, Arthur. I don’t need your tips on how to raise him,” Sirius said, his voice colder than Harry had ever heard him be.

“I have seven kids of my own, Sirius,” Mr. Weasley replied calmly. Harry was secretly thankful it was him and not his far more fiery wife having the conversation with Sirius. Had Molly Weasley been present, he was more than certain the discussion would have already devolved into a shouting match. “One of whom is now bound to Harry for life. So I think you won’t mind it when I say I have a vested interest in his safety and well-being.”

“And you really think sticking his head in the sand will keep him safe?”

“It will certainly keep him happier. He should be down here, celebrating his birthday instead of being up in his room mulling over what you told him. Dumbledore said-”

“Speaking of, I still can’t believe you told Dumbledore, Lia,” Sirius muttered cutting Mr. Weasley off mid-speech.

“He’s the Supreme Mugwump, Sirius. He’s the only one with the power to convene Wizengamot for emergency sessions. I had to tell him.”

Daphne pressed into Harry’s side, just as curious about the conversation as he was. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest, both of them leaning against the banister of the staircase.

“As I was saying, Dumbledore said-” Mr. Weasley tried again, only to be cut off by Sirius once more.

“I have even less of an interest in following Dumbledore’s advice after what happened last year, Arthur. The man may be a genius, but he acts like a troll when it comes to Harry and his upbringing. Both he and Fudge seem intent on treating Harry like he’s eleven. I tried my best to give him a happy childhood or as happy a childhood as one can have after everything he’s been through. But he’s not a child anymore, Arthur. Treating him like one only puts him and the people around him in greater danger.”

Mr. Weasley turned to look at Amelia, hoping she would back him up.

“I’m with Sirius on this one, Arthur. My boyfriend can be a reckless idiot, and Merlin knows his godson isn’t any better at times, but Dumbledore’s decisions have been growing rather questionable with time. Take your own daughter, for example. You know just as well as I do just how lucky she is to be alive.”

“She’s not fully alive though, is she? She’s a thrall. She can never be independent of Harry. Now think how awful her life would be if Lucius had used that diary to bind her to him instead. Maybe that was his plan. Maybe he wanted to bind the children of all prominent wizarding houses to him through whatever remnant of Voldemort was in that diary.” Sirius ignored the flinches from both Mr. Weasley and Amelia. “The point being, he should have closed the school. If he didn’t want to do something that drastic, should at least have brought in someone actually competent to investigate the petrifications. Instead, he let Lockhart take point and Harry and Ginny nearly died as a result. I’m done giving him a say in Harry’s upbringing.”

Mr. Weasley sighed and slumped back in his chair. He didn’t bother to argue any further. He took off his glasses and started to clean them with the edge of his sweater.

“How much have you told him?” Amelia asked.

“Almost all of it. The parts I haven’t told him are the parts I didn’t know about myself.”

“Are you going to tell him about Hogwarts?”

Harry turned to look at the top of the stairs at the sound of wood thumping against the wooden floor.

“Shit,” he swore, spotting Mad-Eye Moody making his way down the stairs. “We have to go Daph.”

“What? No! They’re talking about Hogwarts. We need to know!” Daphne hissed, but he had already wrapped his hand around her shoulder and was pulling her into the grimy backyard of the pub.

“That was Mad-Eye. His eye can see through my cloak. If we get caught, you can say goodbye to eloping,” Harry explained calmly. “What’s more important? Marrying me or eavesdropping?”

“Fuck, those are really hard options to choose from, daddy!” Daphne exclaimed, her inner Slytherin showing.

Harry chuckled. He pulled his wand out from the pocket of his jeans, tapping the third brick above the green bin before stepping back as the entrance to Diagon Alley was revealed. Harry wrapped an arm around Daphne’s shoulder and pulled her into the deserted street. “Come on, my little viper. Let's get married.”

They walked past the silent shops, quietly savoring each other's company. The only thing Daphne could see open was the All-Night Cafe next to Fortescue's, but other than the lonely witch manning its counter, they didn’t encounter a soul until they rounded the corner and slipped through the arch that marked the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak away from their bodies, certain that they were unlikely to run into anyone who would recognize them in the lively street. Even if people had noticed them materialize out of thin air, nobody gave them a second look.

“Why do you think Dumbledore didn’t want you to know about Lupin?” Daphne asked, steadfastly ignoring a squat wizard trying to sell her a jar of pickled newt eyes. That had to be what they had all been talking about.

“I guess he gave them all his usual spiel about wanting me to lead a normal life, only this time he found someone to actually buy into it. I’m sure Mr. Weasley has my best interests at heart, but Sirius is right. Keeping me in the dark about something like this just to spare my feelings only puts me and those around me in danger.”

“Do you think he’ll turn up at Hogwarts to try and finish what his master couldn’t? Is that the information about Hogwarts that Sirius hasn’t shared with you?”

“I’d hope Voldemort’s top lieutenant is smarter than that.” Daphne hissed quietly at the name, and they attracted more than a few hostile stares from the people who were close enough to hear his words. “If I had to bet, I’d say he’s enjoying life as a free man on a sunny beach far away from Britain.”

“I know everyone loves to say Hogwarts is the safest place in the world, but the last two years don’t exactly support that statement, do they? In fact, they do the exact opposite. If they’re any indication, he’ll probably be waiting for you in your dormitory with a bloody butcher’s knife,” Daphne teased, deftly twisting to avoid a witch hawking fertility potions.

She scowled at the scantily clad blonde prostitute who had taken advantage of her momentary distraction and ambled over to Harry. “Hey handsome,” she purred, caressing Harry’s arm with her finger. To his credit, Harry kept his gaze fixed on her face instead of the woman’s massive (and rather obviously potion-enhanced) breasts. “Are you looking for a good time? I’ll be a much better ride than blondie over here.”

Harry spluttered, turning to Daphne with slight panic in his eyes. To call Daphne Greengrass possessive was akin to saying water was wet. It was simply a fact of nature.

He still remembered what she’d done to Amy Larkin after she had tried to convince him to break off their marriage in favor of her.

“Oh sweetie,” Daphne responded without losing a beat. Her voice was sugary sweet and dripping with venom. “I gave him such a good time that he’s putting a ring on it and keeping me forever.” Daphne wiggled her fingers. She leaned closer, as if she was gossiping with a good friend. “He’s a Lord too,” she whispered. “I guess some men, men with good taste that is, prefer real blondes with asses that aren’t as flat as a washboard.” She grinned as the smile disappeared from the woman’s face once she had finally comprehended her veiled insult. “Oh, don’t worry darling! There’s a potion for that. I’m sure you’re no stranger to such potions. Not all of us are lucky to be as blessed as I have been, after all.” Daphne playfully smacked her arm.

Harry could see the bouncer of the brothel walk towards them and he tightened his hold on Daphne’s hand, pulling her away before she incited a brawl in the street.

He pulled her through the crowds milling about in the alley, only pausing once they were a safe distance from the building and the whore and her minder were no longer in sight.

“You’re incorrigible,” Harry wheezed, doubling over and gasping for breath. Daphne wasn’t faring much better, leaning into his side for support, her chest heaving as she labored to breathe.

“Just… marking my territory,” Daphne mumbled, giving him an unabashed smile once she had recovered. She slipped her hand in his as he straightened, letting him lead her toward the spire visible in the distance.

“She thought you were a-”

“Whore, yeah.”

“I’m-”

“Don’t be. I was strangely flattered.”

“Merlin, we’re insane.”

“Do you want to go back?” Daphne tried her best not to let the insecurity she had worked so hard to bury creep into her voice. A part of her always worried that she would be too boring, too tame, too inexperienced for Harry.

And now her father had given him a convenient way of getting out of marrying her.

“Not for anything in the world,” Harry replied with quiet conviction.

He pulled the grinning girl into the rundown chapel. A couple stood in front of the altar, and so Harry moved to sit in the front pew, knowing they’d have to wait for their turn.

“The wizard and the banshee that were in the pub,” Daphne whispered, nodding at the man and woman who were obviously waiting for something (or someone). The man had his forehead against the veiled woman’s, whispering something to her as he caressed her hand.

“Alrighty,” a portly man said, emerging from the door set in the wall behind the altar. He was wearing vestments a size smaller than was probably appropriate and reeked of bourbon. “Just the two couples today? Slow night.”

“Not who I imagined conducting our wedding,” Daphne whispered, hoisting her legs up on the wooden pew. She stretched out on the bench and laid her head on Harry’s lap.

“Any regrets?” Harry buried his hand in her messy blonde hair, running his fingers through her curls.

“None. A donkey could marry us for all I care. Nothing matters as long as the marriage is legal.” Daphne turned to press a kiss to his knee. “I want to be Mrs. Black. We can have our dream wedding anytime we want. Nothing in the rules that says we can’t get married twice.”

“That’s true.” Daphne frowned at the subdued tone of his voice. She gently hoisted her up into his lap, straddling him.

“Harry,” she whispered, her gray eyes searching his gorgeous emerald orbs, trying to discern the source of his anguish. “If you don’t want to marry me, you need to tell me before we go up there.” She wasn’t sure her heart could take hearing him say that, but she was sure as hell that it wouldn’t be able to handle being dumped at the altar. “I will not be the girl who is dumped at the altar.”

He cupped her cheeks, pulling her in for a bruising kiss that drove all doubt from her mind much more effectively than words ever could. He wanted her. He hungered for her. And yet, she sensed a hesitation within him that she didn’t understand.

“Is it my father?” she asked softly.

“No, darling.” Harry swiped his thumb over her swollen, throbbing lips, and Daphne had a sudden urge to trap it in her mouth and suck on it. “I’m just thinking about our encounter with that woman.”

“I know it was wrong of me to stir up trouble in Knockturn Alley at this time of the hour. But that’s one advantage of marriage, daddy,” she murmured, giving him a shy smile. “When your wife acts like a brat, you get to do your duty as her husband and punish her.”

“Punish you?” Harry quirked an eyebrow.

“You know you want to,” Daphne murmured, trying her best to sound as sultry as the witch in the tawdry romance on WWN that had recently become one of her guilty pleasures.

“Maybe I do,” Harry whispered, the back of his hand ghosting over the gentle curves of her body. Her eyes fluttered shut and she shivered, wishing for the tenth time that night for them to speed through the wedding so she could enjoy what came after. “But that’s not what worries me, princess.”

“What then?”

“Sirius told me there might be another marriage contract in my parents’ will reading tomorrow. I may have to marry someone else in my capacity as Lord Potter.”

“And you’re worried it might be someone as vapid and shallow as that woman? The thought of marrying Pansy would put a damper on my spirits too,” Daphne teased.

“That’s… shit, I wasn’t worried about that, but now I am,” Harry mumbled.

“Don’t worry. Your parents would have chosen well for you,” Daphne murmured, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him with pure adoration etched on her face.

“You… don’t mind?”

“I knew for a long time you’d marry someone else, Harry. It doesn’t bother me. If it did, do you really think I’d take the effort to write to Ginny and try to be her friend?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“I’m not sleeping with her and I’m not marrying her.”

“You will, one day. She can never be your wife or Lady Potter, but I’ll still be sharing you with her. Do I sound like I have a problem with that?”

“I… what… why would I make her sleep with me?”

“You won’t make her do anything. She’ll want to. You obviously find her beautiful. And, at the end of the day, you’ll do it for her well-being.”

“That’s ass-backwards Daph, and you know it.”

“Really?” Daphne lazily raised an eyebrow in challenge. “You promised to take care of her, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Is forcibly making her stay a chaste virgin her entire life compatible with her physical and mental well-being?”

“She can sleep with whoever she wants.”

“She’s your thrall, daddy. She wants you.” Daphne gently smacked his chest to drive home her point.

“If you don’t have a problem with… me sleeping with others even after we marry,” Harry started, only to be cut off by Daphne.

“I don’t.”

“Why did you react the way you did with that woman?”

“She was different,” Daphne replied, echoing his words from earlier. “I don’t… She thought she was superior to me. She wanted to take you from me. I don’t mind sharing you, Harry, but if the future Lady Potter is someone who thinks she can take you from me, she and I are going to have some problems,” Daphne mumbled, her lower lip trembling.

She didn’t share the other reason she wasn’t too bothered by Ginny. The redhead was just as inexperienced as she was when it came to all things sexual. What if his other wife was someone like Lavender Brown?

What if Harry grew tired of her inexperience and fumbling attempts to pleasure him and abandoned their marital bed entirely?

“Oh, darling.” Harry wrapped an arm around her back, his hand resting on the back of her head. He cradled her body, turning to kiss her temple. “No matter who it is, I promise I will never leave you.”

She wanted to believe him. Oh, she so desperately wanted to believe him.

“Promise?” she asked, her voice soft and vulnerable. To the world, she was the Ice Queen, the Viper of Slytherin. To him, she was a broken princess, clinging to whatever scraps of love and affection she could lay her hands on.

“Promise,” he whispered, taking her hand and gently squeezing it.

“OI!” The romantic atmosphere was shattered in an instant by the priest’s irate voice. “No humping in my chapel! You want to spend the night? I got a cot in the backroom. Twenty galleons an hour, non-negotiable.”

“Uh… no thank you,” Daphne blushed, quickly climbing off Harry’s lap. She ran her hand down her overcoat, smoothening it before she started to work on fixing her hair. “We’re just here to get married.”

Prim. Proper. Presentable. Never forget the 3 P’s she reminded herself.

“Well, come on then. I ain’t got all night. Got the missus waiting for me,” the priest said, summoning both of them to the altar with his hand. It was then that Daphne realized that the wizard and his banshee bride had already married and left, she and Harry being too engrossed with each other to even notice.

Daphne climbed up the steps and turned to face Harry, both of them sporting identical, nervous grins on their faces.

Daphne heard the rustle of papers and could see the priest pull out an official Ministry wedding form from the mess on his dais.

“Names?”

“Harry Po-”

“Black!” Daphne hissed, cutting him off before he could finish.

“Right. Harry Black,” Harry said, correcting himself.

“Need your legal name if we want to do everything above board, son,” the priest said, looking at the couple shrewdly. Daphne guessed he didn’t particularly care either way and would happily do things ‘under the table’ for a substantial increase in his fees.

“That’s my legal name. I’m the heir to two Houses,” Harry explained.

“Must be a good life.”

“It’s alright,” Harry answered nervously.

Did he honestly not know who Harry Potter was?

The greedy expression on his face left her with a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly who was standing in his chapel and that her father would find out about their wedding from the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

“Daphne Greengrass.”

She watched him scribble the names onto the parchment, before dripping red wax near its lower right border. He fixed the official seal of the Department of Records on the molten wax, waiting for it to solidify before giving the document an affectionate pat.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, yadda yadda yadda. You wanna say vows or some shit? Or exchange rings? We have an exquisite collection for sale if you don’t have your own.”

“No, thank you,” Daphne muttered, suddenly eager to get out of the place. The look he was giving the two of them was unsettling.

“Thirty galleons,” the man said gruffly, extending a grim palm.

Harry pulled out the money bag from his pocket and the man’s eyes were fixed on the gold coins he was laying out. Daphne turned and grabbed the marriage certificate before the man could react or do anything to stop her.

“I can deposit that in the Department of Records for you tomorrow, darling.” The way he said that word sent a shiver down Daphne’s spine. “No extra charge.”

“That’s alright. I work there. I’ll save you the trouble,” Daphne lied, placing a warning hand on Harry’s arm. He was perceptive enough to take the hint, wordlessly laying out the rest of the payment before following her out of the chapel.

“Why’d you do that?” Harry asked, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his side.

“I’m not leaving anything to chance, dearest husband,” Daphne mumbled into his chest, feeling giddy with happiness despite the fact that they were still in front of the chapel. “This is the proof that we are married, and I’m holding on to it.”

“What now?” Harry asked as the two exited Knockturn Alley in favor of the quiet serenity of Diagon Alley as fast as they could.

“Now,” Daphne murmured, glad that the dark moonless night was hiding the heavy blush on her cheeks. “You take me back to your room and make me a woman.”

Chapter 5:

“Daph? Is everything alright?”

“Just a minute! Don’t come in!” Daphne shouted from inside the bathroom. She studied her reflection in the mirror one last time, smacking her lips to ensure her lipstick was applied perfectly. The dark red lipstick and mascara were the only emergency makeup items she carried in her small purse, and her panicked escape from Greengrass Manor meant that she hadn’t stopped to grab anything else, not even a change of clothes.

That part hadn’t been much of a problem. Her etiquette tutor had taught her all the charms she’d ever need to stitch, mend, and even transfigure clothes on the fly.

‘Always be useful. Never be intrusive.’

Every lesson the woman had ever taught her in how to be a perfect wife was ingrained in her mind.

A perfect wife doesn’t spend her wedding night with her husband in a bulky overcoat and ballet flats.

She had discarded her scarf and overcoat. She kicked off her shoes, studying the uninspiring black socks she wore. A few whispered spells later they had been transformed into translucent black stockings that ended a few centimeters above her knee, both of them capped by black satin bows.

Her leggings and simple white panties were next to go, unceremoniously stuffed into the laundry basket provided in the bathroom. She slipped out of her bra and carelessly tossed it to the floor, before transfiguring her blouse into something she thought Harry would like.

“You can do this. It’s just sex. He knows what he’s doing, he’ll teach you,” Daphne mumbled to herself, adjusting the straps of her sheer, baby pink nightgown. She gripped the edges of the sink, trying not to let the panic gnawing at the edges of her mind consume her.

“Daph?” His voice was softer, and he sounded like he was right outside the bathroom door. “Are you alright? We don’t have to do this tonight, if you don’t want to.”

“We have to consummate the marriage,” Daphne croaked, hyperventilating.

“We can just tell everyone we did. It's not like people check the sheets anymore.”

“You don’t know my father,” Daphne muttered darkly, splashing her face with cold water, hoping it would calm her down. When it failed to do anything, she gave up. She hated herself in that moment, but she wasn’t about to let her stupid brain ruin Harry’s night. “A-alright. I’ll stay in the bathroom for a while. You can go get that woman. It’s not fair for you to have to spend your wedding night like this.”

Harry rested his head against the bathroom door, his hand on the knob. “I don’t want to sleep with that woman, princess. I want to sleep with you, whenever you are ready.”

“I want to sleep with you too, daddy,” Daphne whispered, her words barely audible through the door.

“I… Can I come in?”

“Mhm.” Daphne nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. As embarrassed as she was at the thought of him seeing her in such a state, she needed the comfort only he could provide.

Harry slipped into the bathroom, his cock twitching at the sight of his gorgeous wife in the tiny translucent slip. It was a garment in name only, and covered nothing. Her heavy, perfectly formed tear-drop shaped breasts were on full display, each sweetly curved mound topped with a stiff rosy peak. His eyes roved over her slender long legs and he tried his best not to imagine how they’d feel wrapped around his waist. Harry ignored the lecherous thoughts invading his mind at the sight of her beautiful body, instead hugging her from behind and pulling her into his chest.

“What’s troubling you?” He buried a hand in her messy blonde curls, gently running his fingers through them.

Daphne slumped against his chest, her tense muscles relaxing. He knew exactly how to take care of her, and her worries suddenly seemed silly in hindsight.

“I’m worried you won’t like it with me,” Daphne admitted, her cheeks burning. Having her face buried in his chest made it easier for her to talk. “I’m worried I’ll be too boring and stiff for you, and you’ll prefer to spend time with Ginny or your other wife or a mistress and our bed will be cold and lonely for the rest of our lives. I’ll just be another bitter Pureblood wife, forced to fake smiles and happiness whenever I’m trotted out at functions and balls.”

“Is that all?” Harry chuckled. He gently turned her to face the mirror, pinning her between his body and the sink. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and rested his chin on her head. “You think too much, darling.”

“And you think too little,” Daphne replied grumpily. How was he so cavalier about it? They were talking about the rest of her life!

“Can you conjure me a blindfold?”

The question threw her off balance. Why did he need a blindfold?

“W-what kind?” She asked, keeping her questions to herself.

“Just a simple black satin one will do.”

Daphne nodded to the discarded bra on the floor. “It’d be easier for you to do it yourself, daddy, because I’m not sure what it is that you need exactly. Just transfigure my bra.”

“I still can’t do magic here, remember?” Fudge and the DMLE had let things slide once. He doubted they’d be as understanding a second time, especially if they learnt that he’d broken the law just so he could introduce his wife to the pleasures of kinky sex.

“Yes you can,” Daphne turned to look at Harry with an impish smile. She leaned up and kissed the corner of his lips. “Happy Birthday, daddy.”

“Oh. Right!” Harry pulled his wand from the pocket of his trousers, quietly transfiguring her white bra into a black satin blindfold before bending to pick it up.

“You think. You analyze. You plan. But that’s not how sex works, babygirl.” Harry wrapped the blindfold around her eyes. Daphne gripped the sink harder, her knuckles whitening as her body tensed. “You’re a tightly coiled spring. You always need to be in control of a situation. But if you keep going down this path, you’re going to snap one day. Let me take care of you. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” Daphne replied with quiet conviction.

“Good girl.” Daphne shivered when he playfully patted her firm ass.

She didn’t move without his permission, not even when she heard him walk out of the bathroom.

Harry returned with a bowl full of ice from the magically enchanted ice box provided in the room and a candle, setting both down on the sink carefully.

He hooked his finger under a strap of her nightgown, gently sliding it down her arm. She shivered. “Do you remember our late night talks?”

She did. Vividly. She had made him share every small detail of his encounters with Larkin. Once sufficiently fortified with alcohol, their conversations inevitably turned to everything they’d do once they married.

“Those were just fantasies, daddy,” Daphne mumbled, biting her lower lip as the soft material of the nightgown slid down her body and pooled around her ankles, leaving her completely bare for him.

“If I can do them with Amy Larkin, why can’t I do them with my wife?” Harry asked quietly, his index finger caressing her spine.

She couldn’t help herself. She moaned quietly, pressing her legs together to trap the trickle of arousal seeping out of her wet slit. He had a point. After all, even them being daddy and princess was nothing less than a fantasy and hardly something proper.

The proper Pureblood wife was supposed to be composed in her lovemaking. She knew for a fact that half the women from the upper classes she talked to simply lay on their backs and let their husbands and lovers do what they wanted while they faked moaning and turned their minds to more important matters.

After all, the more adventurous stuff was reserved for mistresses and whores.

But that wasn’t the life she wanted. Society could dictate how she had to behave in public, but it had no right whatsoever to intrude in her marital bed.

“I want to be your whore.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked, sounding amused.

Had she said that out loud?

She had, she realized, her cheeks turning the color of beetroots. “U… Uhm… I mean… I don’t want you to have to take mistresses and hire prostitutes, daddy,” Daphne mumbled, wishing she could crawl into a hole and stay there forever. “I want me and your other wife to be able to take care of all your needs.”

“And what about your needs?” Harry asked, his hand moving down her body. He grabbed a pert asscheek and gently began to knead it, causing Daphne’s knees to buckle.

“Ah… ah… fuck…” she whimpered, unable to believe the lewd sounds escaping her lips. “P-Pureblood wives don’t have needs, daddy. They have duties,” she stammered.

“Maybe. But you’re my whore tonight, aren’t you, princess?” Harry wrapped his hands around her slender thighs and roughly pulled her legs apart. Daphne scrambled to maintain her balance, her hands grabbing the sink to make sure she didn’t stumble.

“Y-yes sir,” Daphne mumbled, trying her best not to sound too excited. Her thoughts had quietened, her mind instead happily basking in the warm glow that seemed to suffuse through her body.

“And I bet she has needs.”

She does, Daphne thought, moaning quietly.

“If you take your hands off the sink, I’ll slipper you and send you straight to bed Mrs. Black. Do you understand?”

Daphne nodded.

Harry picked up an ice cube, rolling it between his fingers. He had made a dent in her wall, but she was still too tense. It was time to fix that.

“Mouth open, tongue out.” Daphne obeyed his order. Harry didn’t do anything, simply admiring her round ass while she struggled to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth. In the end she lost her battle, a steady trickle of drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth and dripping down her chin onto her breasts.

The humiliation of being treated like this caused another trickle of wetness to seep out of her pussy and coat the inside of her thighs, the heady scent of her arousal filling the small space.

“Just because we act a certain way in public doesn’t mean we have to behave the same way in private, darling.” He pushed his hand between her spread thighs, his fingers ghosting over the puffy lips that guarded her womanhood. “Lord and Lady Black are not the same people as Daddy and Princess,” he reminded her.

“Yes, daddy,” Daphne mumbled, subconsciously bucking her hips in a vain effort to get his fingers inside her.

Harry chuckled.

“Eager, are we?”

Daphne no longer cared if what she did and said was proper or not.

“Yes,” she replied.

SMACK.

Daphne squealed at the hard slap to her ass.

“Did I give you permission to close your mouth or put your tongue back inside?” Harry growled, studying the faint red outline of his handprint on her alabaster skin.

“No, daddy,” Daphne mumbled. A lone tear slipped out from under her blindfold, her stinging ass a pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. It hurt, but deliciously so. She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out.

“Good girl,” Harry murmured, carefully picking up the candle he had brought with him. He cast a quiet cooling charm to bring the temperature of the wax to a safe level and a second charm to make sure the wax stayed at the same temperature and didn’t solidify before grabbing her shoulder and making her lean back against his chest.

“Hands on the sink, mouth open,” Harry reminded her. “You only move your tongue to speak.”

“Yes, sir,” Daphne murmured, lost in the haze of Subspace. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t thinking, planning, or analyzing. She was free, floating on a cloud of bliss and happiness.

“I’m going to ask you questions. If you answer correctly, you get rewarded. If you don’t, you get punished. Do you understand?”

Daphne nodded.

“What are you?” Harry asked quietly.

“I-I’m Daphne Black. Your wife,” Daphne murmured.

She shrieked as he dribbled a dollop of wax onto her breast, her body thrashing involuntarily.

“MERLIN. I… I’m sorry! I’m your princess, daddy!”

Harry wordlessly dropped another small dollop of wax onto her creamy skin.

“I’M YOUR SLUT, SIR,” Daphne screamed, sobbing. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the hot bead of wax rolled down her breast and enveloped her nipple. She nearly pulled her hand away from the sink to wipe it off, and could only summon the strength to stop herself from doing so at the very last second.

“What are you?” Harry asked again, bringing the candle closer so she could feel its warmth. It was an implicit threat of further punishment if she got it wrong again.

“I… I’m your wife! Your princess! Your slut. I’m your everything. You’re mine, and I’m yours!” Daphne wheezed in between sobs, black mascara-stained tears streaming down her face.

“Good girl,” Harry whispered, picking up an ice cube and gently running it over her pink skin. “You’re my everything. You don’t have to choose between being the kind of wife you want to be and a fulfilling sex life, darling. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” Daphne whispered in between shuddering gasps, her chest heaving with every breath.

“Yes what?” Harry asked, dropping another dollop of wax on her flat stomach.

“SIR!” Daphne gently kicked the tiled bathroom wall under the sink, the stinging of the hot wax overloading her brain and driving out all coherent thought.

Harry blew out the candle and tossed it into the sink. He gently rubbed the ice over her flushed chest and abdomen, knowing he had broken through her resistance.

“T-thank you daddy,” Daphne whispered, sobbing with relief. It wasn’t just thanks for the ice. It was gratitude for knowing what she needed. She knew he’d understand.

“You’re welcome, darling,” Harry murmured, bending and pulling the nightgown back up her body, helping her dress in it. “You can close your mouth now.”

Daphne gratefully shut her aching jaw, very aware that her chin and breasts were coated with her own drool. Her entire body was a mess, covered in something from head to toe.

“Why am I wearing this again, sir?” Daphne asked, her eyes fluttering open, only to be greeted by darkness. But she found a certain freedom at being so helpless, and she finally understood what he had been trying to do.

She had no control and yet she felt free.

I love you, Harry Potter, she thought, letting him grab her wrist and pull her out of the bathroom without answering her question. She didn’t know where he was taking her and nor did she care.

He was the one person allowed to take care of her, she decided. Ginny had told him they had been toying with the idea of a collaring and a submissive contract, and she wondered if he’d be open to one for her as well.

She didn’t particularly care for a collar (she was a princess after all, not a mere pet), but the sound of rules and protocols did feel enticing.

She squealed when he carelessly tossed her onto the bed, her heavy breasts straining against the loose nightgown as they jiggled.

“Because I’m going to fuck you in it, Daphne Black,” Harry finally answered, his voice hoarse with lust.

She clamped her hand to her mouth to stifle her moan as he grabbed her knees, pulling her legs apart and leaving her shaved mound in full view of her husband. Harry pressed his palm against her slick womanhood, his finger gently pushing inside her tight, virgin cunt.

Daphne groaned, a familiar heat pooling in the pit of the stomach. He was far thicker than her own fingers and her pussy struggled to accommodate the digit. Harry pulled it out, but not before leaving her with a delicious ache between her legs.

Daphne whined, her back arching and hips bucking in the direction of his hand.

“Hush, darling.” The gentle admonishment caused her to drop back down to the bed and she turned in the direction of his voice, giving him a sheepish smile.

Harry kneeled in front of the bed, burying his face between her legs. He turned to the right, slowly peppering her creamy skin with kisses as he made his way up her thighs.

“W-what’re you doing, sir?” Daphne asked, eyes going wide under the blindfold when he placed a gentle kiss on her pussy.

“Getting you ready for my cock.” Harry trapped a pussy lip between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug. Daphne moaned, her brain unable to comprehend if what she was feeling was pleasure or pain.

At this point, is there a difference?

Pleasure was pain, and pain was pleasure.

“And eating you out, because I think I’d rather enjoy it,” Harry added after pulling away. He stood and quickly stripped off all his clothes, the tightness in his pants far too uncomfortable for him to bear anymore. He sighed in relief as his throbbing erection was freed. He spent a second massaging his aching cock and taking the time to admire his wife.

She lay obediently on the bed, her blonde hair fanning around her head like a halo. It felt appropriate, he thought. She was, after all, nothing less than an angel.

He kneeled back between her legs, his thumb tracing her lips as it traveled up until he located her clit. She gasped quietly at the sudden pressure to her sensitive nub.

“I… have I ever told you how much I love you?” Daphne mumbled in between moans, her hand moving down and burying itself in his messy hair. She instinctively guided him to her pussy, and Harry was more than happy to oblige.

“You’ve never told me you love me, darling.” He lazily darted his tongue in and out of her cunt while he massaged her clit. He lapped up her tangy arousal, letting her hold in his hair guide him to her most sensitive spots.

“I… Twas a mistake,” Daphne groaned, her vision darkening as she felt her orgasm build. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. “F-followed t-the wrong r-rules,” she stammered, shuddering as a warmth spread through her core.

“What’re the right rules?” Harry carelessly grazed her clit with his thumb’s nail, causing Daphne to stuff her hand in her mouth to stifle her scream.

“AH! I… Your… Your rules, sir!” Daphne sobbed, overstimulated beyond belief. She had no strength left in her body. She simply lay on the bed, her brain still trying to fight an inevitable outcome.

Cumming all over her husband’s face, after all, was not proper.

Between the lazy darting of Harry’s tongue and her own newfound resolve to redefine what ‘proper’ meant, it was very much a losing battle.

“Do you love me?”

“I LOVE YOU!” There was no stifling her scream this time, her body shuddering at the force of the orgasm rocking through it. She arched her back, her fingers desperately grabbing the crisp white sheets of the bed for some purchase. Her flushed nipples were rock hard, her breasts jiggling gently as she collapsed back onto the bed.

Harry’s eyes flew open in surprise and then immediately shut as she squirted all over his face, her cum covering his face from the fringe of hair over his forehead to his chin. Her grip in his hair loosened before her hand fell away entirely, her desperate moans and incoherently rambling slowly petering out.

“Daphne?” Harry murmured, slowly pulling away. There was no answer. She had passed out from the force of her orgasm, a happy smile etched on her face.

Harry slowly wiped his face clean with the back of his hand, taking a minute to compose himself. He sat there for a while, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions and activities, and technically, it was just getting started.

There was a quiet knock on the door and he got up on unsteady feet, slowly walking over and opening it without much thought.

“I’m so sorry. I came here at nine, but I kept putting off coming up to your room because I was so worried and afraid. But then I couldn’t sleep, and I kept overthinking, and I said to myself, Sue Li, I bet he’d prefer to talk things out,” the tiny Ravenclaw rambled. “So here I am, even though it’s insanely late and I’m sorry if I woke you…” Her words petered out as she finally registered the sight in front of her.

Her eyes moved from Daphne, completely naked and passed out on the bed with a blissful grin on her face and finally to Harry. She took in his muscular chest, the firm muscles of his abdomen, and finally the massive erection.

“S-Sue?” Harry murmured, his dazed brain finally realizing what he had done. His hand shot to cover his crotch, an entirely inadequate effort to hide his throbbing manhood from the girl he often partnered up with in Charms.

“Uhm… like I was saying… I thought you’d prefer… uhm… to… talk…” Sue mumbled, her eyes fixed on Harry’s cock.

“A-about?” Harry stammered, unsure what to do. “Can you come in? I don’t want someone else to-” he gestured at Daphne.

“Right. Right,” Sue mumbled, lowering her eyes and squeezing around Harry into the room. She walked to the window and slipped behind the curtain to hide herself, her cheeks a dark red.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Harry asked, carefully lifting Daphne’s limp body and helping her settle down under a blanket.

“Our marriage,” Sue squeaked.

Notes:

After that Luna chapter, I wanted to see Harry with more Ravenclaws, and Sue Li felt like a more natural fit to this story than Cho. I hope you enjoyed the double feature!