The Power He Knows Not Chapter 13 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Bondage, Body Marking, Paddling, Teasing, Anal Play, Denial.

The Morgana Suite, Roarke's Inn:

“Do you trust me?”

Harry paused in his efforts to push the bright red, oversized ball gag back between the blonde’s drool-stained lips, looking at her strangely. It wasn’t a question he had expected her to ask.

If anything, given their current circumstances, it was a question he should have been asking.

“I do. Far more than most people would consider reasonable,” Harry replied. He didn’t move, hovering over her, inches from her face, their eyes locked.

“Can I try something? I’m just… curious. I want to know how someone can have these desires and hate them so much at the same time,” Daphne murmured, peering into his eyes.

“How will you do that?”

“By entering your mind. My father made me learn Occlumency over the summer, which is basically the technique of closing the door to your mind. But if you know how to close a door… you figure out how to open it sooner or later. I’ve been teaching myself and I’m not very good so I probably won’t get a lot. But I want to try,” Daphne whispered, licking her lips.

Harry knew it was a bad idea. His brain was a dark and twisted place that wasn’t suitable for anybody, least of whom a person he was coming to care for a lot. Yet, a part of him wanted her to take a peek, to understand what was holding him back from the things he craved and desired.

He nodded wordlessly, moving to untie her wrists.

“That won’t be necessary, daddy. All I need is eye contact,” Daphne murmured, waiting for Harry to face her once more.

Once their eyes locked, she gave him a reassuring smile, leaning up to peck his lips. “This won’t hurt,” she whispered, studying the frown on his face.

“I’m not worried about it hurting me, Daphne.”

“Nothing I see will make me leave either,” she replied. She took a deep breath, both of them steeling themselves for what they were about to do.

“Legilimens,” Daphne whispered, gently pushing into Harry’s mind. He flinched at the foreign sensation but did nothing to fight her, letting her explore his thoughts freely.

Daphne ignored all the lust and love and reluctantly moved past the pain and suffering. They were all things to be addressed at a later date. For now, her principal interest was the nugget of pulsating darkness in the very middle of his mind, bound by crude methods that she guessed were a way for his younger mind to protect itself given his upbringing.

Even with such powerful darkness within him, her lover chose the light.

A truly special man.

From the sheepish smile on his face, she knew he had sensed her thought.

She leaned up and rested her forehead against his, her gray eyes holding no judgment. The darkness was a part of him, a part that deserved just as much love and attention as the rest.

“D-do you want me to free you, Harry?”

“Can you?” he asked softly.

“Yes. I’m not good enough to figure out if these bindings are natural or deliberately put in place by someone who meant you harm, but they’re crude. I think I can break them. The question is, should I?”

“Do you think breaking them will help me?”

“I don’t know, daddy,” Daphne answered honestly. “But I do know that not breaking them will only harm you in the long run. Being ashamed of a part of you and binding it away is not healthy. Sooner or later you’re going to snap. I can promise you that it will cause far more damage than dealing with whatever I release.”

“Then break the binds, princess.”

That’s exactly what Daphne did.

Harry didn’t say anything but his breath hitched, and the man collapsed on top of her with a strangled sob.

“Daddy? Harry?!” Daphne whispered, alarmed at the violent shaking of his body. She tugged at her bonds, cursing her decision not to allow him to untie her.

He flailed on top of her for a good few minutes.

“Harry?” Daphne called out again once he had stopped moving, his limp body resting on top of her. The violent blowback of breaking the bonds had pushed her out of his mind and she had no idea what was going on anymore.

He didn’t reply, simply laying on top of her and breathing heavily.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he pulled away from her and propped himself up on his elbows. His dark, half-lidded eyes stared at her with a heated gaze that made her squirm.

“Daphne Greengrass,” he hissed, his voice remarkably like that of a snake. She instinctively knew he was moments away from slipping into Parseltongue. The thought of him hissing into her ear while he took what he was owed… Daphne groaned softly, her hot, wet womanhood aching for something it had never had the pleasure of experiencing.

“Yes, daddy?” Daphne breathed, feeling decidedly small in the presence of this new version of Harry.

Have I created a monster?

If he was a monster, he was her monster. And she would love him just the same.

“Are you mine?”

“Yes, daddy.” The answer was prompt and delivered without hesitation.

“I would like to make that official,” Harry reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wand, pushing it against her skin just below her left shoulder blade. His aura had changed. He seemed more confident, more self-assured of his own abilities, and no longer conflicted about his desires.

He wanted her and he had something very particular in mind.

Daphne’s heart skipped a beat. They had been learning about skin markings and wards in Arithmancy, a class Susan had convinced Harry to shift to from Divination after the end of his third year.

Harry had obviously been paying attention to those lessons.

“What purpose will the mark serve, sir?” Daphne asked nervously.

“For now, it will only serve to mark my claim on you,” Harry replied, his earlier hesitation all but vanished. She had demanded he give in to his desires. She was about to get that wish.

“Then I accept. Although I would like the mark to be lower.”

Harry chuckled coldly. “You say you want me to claim you, silly girl, yet you shy away from revealing that claim to the world. What use is such a claim?”

Daphne flushed, the cold amusement in his voice causing a gush of arousal to trickle down her thighs.

Her boyfriend’s hidden side seemed to be dangerous and deliciously sadistic.

And oh-so-exciting, the voice in her head chimed up.

Her blush deepened. She turned her head to hide her face from him. “I would like the mark on my breast, daddy. Right over my heart,” she whispered, her chest heaving with every breath. Here he was, wanting to mark her like common chattel. Her, Daphne Greengrass. The Princess of Slytherin. Why did the thought of it turn her on so much?

Susan doesn’t have a mark. Nobody else does, or ever will. No matter how many partners Harry has, I am special. We are special.

“Mark me, daddy,” Daphne whispered, sighing as she felt the tip of his wand scrape down her skin, pausing at the very edge of her areola.

“There is no turning back after this, my beautiful serpent,” Harry murmured. She did not understand what he’d said, but had heard enough of the language to know her lover was speaking fluent parseltongue.

“Do it!” Daphne urged, sucking her lower lip between her teeth to stifle the inevitable scream. The hard wood dug into the soft flesh of her breast as Harry pushed the wand into her skin, murmuring the enchantment under his breath.

He only knew enough to mark her with his initials, but that would suffice for now. The rest, they’d learn. Together.

“AHHHHH!” Daphne screamed at the searing, white-hot pain radiating from her chest, her entire body flailing against its bonds in a futile effort to escape.

The Harry from a day ago would have stopped, wracked with guilt over causing such pain to his girlfriend. Now that the dark underbelly of his mind had finally seen the light for the first time in his life, it had decided to completely take over for a change, and Harry calmly continued the spell. The only thing he did was to push her down on the bed with his free hand, pinning her in place to ensure the placement and design of his initials were not disturbed.

As fast as the pain had appeared, it subsided, leaving an exhausted, barely conscious girl in its wake.

“I want to see,” Daphne rasped, her throat dry and itchy from the continuous screaming.

Harry climbed off her body and walked around the room, locating a handheld mirror which he carried over to the bed. He held it above her breasts, letting her study the perfectly stylized ‘H.P.’ inked into her pink skin in bold, black letters.

“It’s perfect,” Daphne whispered, passing out with a content smile on her face.

When she regained consciousness, she found herself suspended from the ceiling. Her arms were stretched above her head, the wrists secured by the manacles dangling from the ceiling. She rotated her hands against the cold steel of the cuffs, testing the degree of freedom she had.

She had none.

“Daddy?” Daphne called out, craning her neck to locate Harry. He had strung her up with her back to the bed and at such a height that her feet barely touched the floor, forcing her to stand on her toes in order to keep her balance. All of it had the effect of making any sort of movement extremely difficult, pushing her ever deeper into subspace. The mixture of primal fear and arousal dominating her brain was intoxicating.

“Yes, Miss Greengrass?” He spoke from somewhere behind her, but she had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

“This seems like a somewhat uncomfortable position for you to sleep with me, sir.” She momentarily lost her balance, her heavy breasts swaying hypnotically as she scrambled to regain her footing. The quiet hiss from behind her at her desperate flailing and the jangling of the metal chains keeping her bound was proof enough of her lover’s enjoyment of her current predicament.

The front of her body was suffused by the warm orange glow of the fire merrily roaring in the small fireplace, her skin glistening with the sheen of the thin layer of sweat coating her body.

It wasn’t a dream, she thought giddily, glancing down at her stinging breast, the dark lettering of her dominant’s initials standing out in stark contrast to her pale skin. For the first time since her mother’s death, she had peace and a sense of belonging.

And all it took was being trussed up in a sex dungeon by Gryffindor’s golden boy, the brat in her thought with a smirk.

I think Dumbledore said something about ‘building bridges’ at the start of the year. Letting Harry Potter ruin a pretty Slytherin seems like a good place to start. She was talking to herself in her mind, lost in the haze of subspace.

Harry’s cold chuckle pulled her back to reality. “What makes you think I’ll be fucking you, Miss Greengrass?”

“Because that’s the plan? That’s what you’re supposed to do now,” she claimed boldly. If Harry wanted a pillow princess in his sex dungeon, he’d have to find someone else.

She planned to spend the rest of her life egging him on and (happily) bearing the consequences.

SMACK.

Harry brought the heavy paddle down on her ass without warning, the force of the black leather impacting her skin causing her firm cheeks to jiggle.

“AH!” Her entire body jerked forward, only to be pulled back into place by the metal chains holding her in place. Her pink skin prickled, a now familiar sting radiating from her poor ass. Her trembling knees buckled, leaving the manacles around her wrists the only thing keeping her upright.

SMACK.

“Count them,” Harry ordered.

“T-two! Please, daddy, I’ve been good!” She sobbed, her hyperaroused body struggling to cope with the dull ache spreading through her arse.

“Do you think it’s proper for you to tell me what to do, silly girl?” Harry asked, his voice ice-cold.

He brought the paddle down on her slender thighs, the loud SMACK echoing around the cavernous room.

Daphne shook her head, her messy blonde hair flying around wildly. “W-what if you’re being an impetuous, pig-headed Gryffindor, sir?” she shot back with a teary giggle. “Who’ll keep you on the straight and narrow if I can’t order you around?” she teased, shuddering as he silently shoved the paddle between her thighs, pushing her legs apart.

“I told you to count, Miss Greengrass,” Harry hissed, bringing the paddle up against her wet slit.

SMACK.

“F-FOUR!” Daphne screamed, violently struggling against her bonds.

Harry silently rubbed the paddle against her bruised pussy, letting the arousal trickling out of her stain the black leather.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight, Miss Greengrass,” Harry murmured, smiling at her sigh of relief when he pulled the paddle away from her. Her relief was short-lived and the paddle slapped against her pussy with even greater force.

“F-five,” Daphne whispered, her voice hoarse. Her throat had given out from all the screaming. Silent tears ran down her face, intermingling with her mascara and lipstick to leave alternating trails of black and red makeup down her face. “Please, sir,” Daphne begged quietly. Her legs had given out, leaving her to dangle helplessly from the chains around her wrist.

“I’m going to spend the week training my princess and her holes,” Harry continued, ignoring her begging. “I’m going to face the dragon and I’m going to win the task,” he said, his voice filled with newfound confidence. He picked up the heavily lubed butt plug he had laid out on the bed. He walked over to the whimpering girl, wrapping a hand around her throat to keep her pinned in place as he teased her puckered hole with the cold, sterile metal of the plug. Daphne groaned as he slowly pushed it inside her tight hole. Her walls had no choice but to stretch to accommodate the plug, leaving the girl feeling very full. Every tiny movement jostled the plug around.

Daphne whimpered as the plug brushed against another sensitive spot, the girl trying her hardest to still her trembling body to avoid moving the large toy stuffing her ass.

“And then I’ll take my prize. You know what my prize is, Daphne?” Harry whispered, clicking his fingers. The cuffs around her wrists unlocked without warning, dropping her to the ground in front of him. She slowly turned to face him, coming face to face with his throbbing manhood.

“Me,” Daphne whispered, grinning through her tears. No amount of pain could suppress the bratty goddess in her for too long and the glorious creature woke up with a roar, demanding to play. She wrapped her hands around his shaft, guiding its glistening tip to her pink lips.

Harry Potter's hidden side wasn’t a monster, she mused, looking up at him through her thick lashes as she expertly swallowed his cock. A week of waking him up with blowjobs had given her a very good idea of what he liked.

No, she thought, drooling around his cock. It is something much more interesting.

The Courtyard:

“You ready?”

“I don’t think my answer to that question really matters, Mione,” Harry murmured, gently pushing away the hands that were trying to adjust his cloak. He doubted the judges were going to score him on appearance and even if they did, he was going to shed the cloak before entering the arena. He’d worn his Quidditch uniform underneath the cloak, an excellent suggestion by Padma to maximize his chances. As she’d pointed out, billowing robes and fluttering cloaks were a deathtrap when one was going up against a fire-breathing creature.

The quiet girl had come up with many such small suggestions, having joined the group helping Harry prepare for the challenge in the last week leading up to the First Task at Susan’s behest. They had been incredibly useful suggestions as well, small things that Daphne and Hermione had missed in the grander scheme of things yet just as important when it came to ensuring he came out of the task (relatively) unscathed.

“Don’t shit on her, Potter, she’s only trying to help,” Daphne muttered, striding across the courtyard, shielding her face from the tepid winter sun with a hand. “We all are. If you want someone to yell at, I’d suggest the incompetent idiots who designed this tournament.”

He knew she hadn’t meant to snap at him and would gladly accept whatever punishment her Daddy saw fit once everything was said and done.

Harry ignored her admonishment. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest for a hug. “Is Susie alright?” he asked, brushing his lips against her forehead.

“She is. Madame Pomfrey gave her some Draught of the Living Dead, just enough to tide her over till the end of the task,” Daphne whispered, melting into her boyfriend’s embrace. Malfoy would pay for what he had done to her. “I’m going to throttle the idiotic ferret for his antics.” The bastard had taken advantage of Susan deciding to spend a quiet free period reading on a courtyard bench the day before the task. He’d goaded and taunted the already high-strung girl until she’d broken down with a panic attack. It was pure luck that Professor Moody had been drawn to the commotion and stepped in. “Temporarily turning him into a ferret isn’t enough. I’m going to make his life a living hell,” Daphne vowed.

“I’ll join you,” Harry said grimly. He had always considered friends and family off-limits in his juvenile rivalry with the blonde Slytherin. He had never personally gone after Pansy, but it had been foolish to believe Malfoy would extend the same courtesy to him. “But first, the task.”

“Mhm. Is there a reason we’re waiting in the courtyard instead of walking down to that disgusting abomination?” Daphne pointed to the newly constructed arena at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Professor McGonagall asked us to wait for her.” Hermione was fidgeting with her wand, pulling it out only to push it back inside her cloak seconds later.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to wish Mr. Potter luck, Miss Greengrass.” Professor McGonagall’s voice lacked its usual sharpness. In fact, she looked and sounded just as distressed as Daphne, which was saying something given how good both women were at hiding their emotions. She walked over to Harry and gently grasped his shoulder. “I don’t want you to panic. Do your best, and you will have won in my eyes. And in the eyes of many others. There will be people ready to step in if things go wrong… Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, giving his professor a reassuring smile.

“Good. Come along then.” She led the group to the tent that had been erected at the entrance of the arena. Krum was leaning against the pole at its opening, silently toying with a snitch in his hand. The other champions were nowhere to be seen.

Professor McGonagall squeezed his shoulder one more time before tactfully withdrawing, knowing her protege would want some time alone with his girlfriend before the start of the task.

“Hermione?” Harry turned to his best friend who was hovering around, muttering spells under her breath.

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a minute?” Harry nodded at Daphne, who was nervously biting her perfectly manicured nail.

“Oh! Oh, right.” Hermione blushed. “I-I’ll go grab us some seats.”

“Potter, if you die because you’re being this blase about the entire affair, I will resurrect you and stab you to death.”

“I… I’m not being… blasted?”

“Blase.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “Everyone is worried sick and you’re acting like you don’t have a care in the world.”

“We have a plan.”

“Yeah, our plan hinges on you facing a dragon using two spells you’ve learned over the course of a week. I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending you to face a niffler with such a hastily concocted plan. Why. Are. You. So. Calm?” She punctuated each word with a poke to his chest.

“Do you remember our day in that suite in Hogsmeade?”

“Yes, of course, I remember. How could I-” Daphne scowled, twirling on her feet until her back was to him. “No. We’re not talking about sex. You aren’t allowed to fill your mind with things you’ve done and want to do to me, not when you’re supposed to focus on staying alive.” Her voice trembled. The plug in her ass was an ever-present reminder of his promise to her.

“I wasn’t-” Harry sighed. “Why do you have your back to me, Daphne?”

“So you don’t get a look at my body and have lecherous thoughts fill your brain when they should be filled with the plans and contingencies we came up with.”

“I can still see your ass, Daphne. Your gorgeous, firm, magnificent-” Harry chuckled at the sight of Daphne twirling back to face him, her eyes glinting murderously. “In any case,” he said, sobering up. “I wasn’t going to talk about sex. Do you remember the mind thing you did to me?”

“Legilimency?” Daphne’s expression changed to one of horror. “Oh, Morgana! I broke your mind. I broke the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Princess. Princess!” Harry grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently, breaking her out of her panic-filled thoughts.

“Yes, daddy?” Daphne murmured, flushing at the immediate reaction she had to his tone and the nickname.

“You didn’t break me. You removed something from my mind that day, right? I… can’t explain it. I feel calmer and more confident. If anything, what you did is going to help me with the task. If I’m calm, I’m less liable to make a mistake.”

Daphne nodded. The logic was sound.

“That’s the reason why I’m not nervous about the task.”

“So you didn’t smoke some of those weeds Hannah and Neville are growing behind the third greenhouse?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh, okay. Good,” she mumbled, gripping his shoulders tighter at the sound of trumpets.

“I have to go now.”

Daphne nodded but didn’t loosen her hold on him.

“Daphne! Harry! I’m so glad I caught you two!” Padma exclaimed, running down the hill as fast as she could.

“Hey, Padma. I thought you were in the hospital wing with Susan,” Harry murmured, gently freeing himself from Daphne’s grasp.

“I was. But Madame Pomfrey told me she won’t be up for a few hours and I wanted to be there… here, for you,” Padma replied with a shy smile.

“Thank you. I appreciate the support. I think I’ve been summoned inside the tent. Do you mind going into the stadium with Daphne? Hermione is already in there, waiting for you.”

“Sure,” Padma nodded. “Uh, before we go, can I give you something?” The tips of her ears turned red, which Harry had come to learn was a sign that she was flustered.

“Of course.”

Padma removed the bright red ribbon she had used to secure her plait. “My grandmother gave this to my mother when she moved to Britain. It’s supposed to bring great luck. When I didn’t want to come back to Hogwarts at the start of our second year, my mother gave it to me.” She took his wrist, gently wrapping the ribbon around it.

“Padma, I-”

“I want you to have it,” Padma said softly. “May it bring you the same amount of good luck it brought me.” She secured the ribbon around his wrist and walked away, giving the couple the privacy they needed to say their goodbyes.

“Daddy,” Daphne murmured, resting her forehead against his.

“I know. Don’t die,” Harry whispered, pulling her in for a chaste kiss.

Daphne nodded. “You told me you’d only take my flower when you win the Task. So go win your prize, sir. You don’t get to die before you do that,” Daphne whispered, leaning up to press her lips against his in a chaste kiss. She pulled away reluctantly, running up to join Padma.

“Patil, that ribbon of yours better be bloody lucky.” He could hear her growl as he stepped inside the tent.

Krum had abandoned his post by its entrance in favor of pacing around its circumference and looked surlier than ever. Fleur occupied one of the four stools provided in the tent. She was staring off into the distance, her face pale and clammy. Cedric was the most composed of the trio and the Hufflepuff walked over to greet Harry when he entered the tent.

“Quite the goodbye,” Cedric murmured with a small smile.

“If you value your life, Cedric, my advice would be to pretend you didn’t see that. Daphne and emotional vulnerability are words you do not want to utter in the same sentence,” Harry replied, responding to his smile with one of his own.

“Noted.” Cedric crossed his arms over his chest, sighing nervously. “You think you’re ready for the task?”

“As ready as I can ever be, I guess. I doubt any amount of additional training or planning is going to increase my chances. It’s like ripping away a bandaid, right? Better to get it done and over with.”

“I guess. Listen, I wanted to thank you,” Cedric murmured, lowering his voice to ensure he wasn’t overheard.

“For?”

“Having Susan tell me about the dragons,” Cedric whispered, lowering his voice further.

“The three of us knew about it, Cedric.” He gestured to himself before waving his hand in Krum and Fleur’s direction. “It was only fair that you did too. Besides, if we’re nitpicking, I can say I shared the information as thanks for helping Susan in stopping people from wearing those horrible badges.”

“I never-”

“I know you didn’t, Cedric. Thank you, for your trust in me, even when you have no reason to justify that belief.”

“Malfoy is disgusting. What he did to Susan-”

“He’ll get what he deserves. I’m just waiting for the task to be over.”

“I’d happily help.”

Harry turned and smiled at Cedric, grateful for his companionship. Any further conversation was made impossible by Ludo Bagman bouncing into the tent, bursting with excitement. He was still dressed in his old Quidditch uniform, his belly wobbling dangerously in the tight shirt.

“Glad to see you’ve all made it!” He beamed. His smile was not returned by anyone else in the tent. Bagman did not let the fact dampen his enthusiasm, continuing his speech with a grin, “Well, I guess it’s time to explain the task to all of you!”

Notes:

Reupload cause the original version was missing some fun and important portions. This isn't a Dark! Harry story. I'm going somewhere specific with this, but it's not Harry becomes a Dark Lord. Also, I like the idea of all his soulmates having specific benefits for him instead of it just giving him some vague power boost. Susan is his heart, Daphne tames his darkness... What will Padma be? Oh, and more than anything else, Daphne's kink is feeling powerful, wanted, and special. Also, Draco vs. Daphne, I'm taking bets now! Lol.