Lessons For A Happy Marriage Chapter 1. (Patreon)

Blurb: Voldemort's defeat leaves a shattered, decimated society in its wake. To heal rifts and ensure their survival, the new Minister of Magic enacts a Marriage Law tasking Unspeakables to pair people up with partners most suitable for them.

Harry and Daphne might have defeated Voldemort, but that's nothing compared to the challenges of marriage and keeping their wives happy. Luckily, they won't have to look far to find someone willing to teach them everything they need to know.

Content Warnings: Semi-Public, Exhibitionism, Breast Play, Teasing, Heat, ABO.

“The Chudley Canons are the worst.”

Daphne grinned as the portrait of the Traenor the Knight swung forward, revealing the entrance hidden behind it. The password was a mouthful, but the fact that Ron had to utter it every time he wanted to see his friends made it completely worth it. The Head Boy and Girl had found it rather difficult to deny her request after she’d reminded them of all the shit he had pulled in the tent instead of helping them rid the world of the worst Dark Lord in half a century.

“Granger.” Daphne smiled at the sight of Hermione’s head buried in a book. She was scratching away on a parchment, doubtlessly working on the extremely complicated potions homework they had been assigned if her scowl was anything to go by.

“Hey,” Hermione muttered without looking up. It wasn’t as if the blonde’s presence in their quarters was a surprise. If anything, the thing that surprised her was why Daphne hadn’t moved in wholesale. She certainly spent enough time in their Common Room and in Harry’s dorm to justify it.

“Where’s he?”

Hermione pointed to the long couch by the fireplace, where just a hint of messy black hair poked over the burgundy cushion.

“Thanks. By the way, two bezoars are overkill. The book got it wrong.”

“You figured it out?!”

But Daphne didn’t answer. Her short heels clicked on the rough-hewn stone floor as she made her way to the sofa, the girl mentally making a note to convince her husband to carpet what was essentially his bloody living room. Husband. There were days when she couldn’t believe they’d married so soon.

She flopped into Harry’s lap wordlessly, curling up against his broad chest and enjoying the warmth radiating from his body and from the fire roaring in the fireplace. She couldn’t honestly remember a time when such an action hadn’t felt natural.

How she got to this point… that she knew. The road hadn’t exactly been straightforward. She had joined his little defense club along with a couple of other Slytherins out of pure curiosity, but the man had actually turned out to be a bloody competent teacher. And a superb duelist, not that she’d ever admit it to him.

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. It wouldn’t do for him to get a big head. Or to think that she loved him. Merlin forbid he get such silly notions in his head.

Even after Umbridge left, she kept annoying him until he gave in and continued to teach her during their sixth year. It was then, like any good Slytherin, that she began to plot. She knew there was no way for her to be neutral like her parents had been. No, she had to pick a side, and she had been determined to pick the winning one.

Which, honestly, was easy. The more time she spent with Harry, the more she was sure that he would probably win. Turning the probability into certainty required her intervention, and so when he and his best friends set off on their merry quest to hunt the items tethering Voldemort on the mortal plane, she joined them to aid in their efforts. When that aid transformed from providing books on Horcruxes and giving him haircuts to bouncing on his cock…

You were boosting his morale, she reminded herself.

“I can see the gears in that dangerous brain of yours turning.” Harry lazily poked open an eye, grinning at the sight of his wife. Gorgeous as ever. “What’re you thinking?”

“How much I don’t love you.”

“Funny. I was also thinking about how I’m absolutely not in love with you. Should’ve dumped you at the altar.”

From her table, Hermione snorted.

“Since we’re being honest, I married you for your money and your power. It’s not like I’m crazy for you… I definitely don’t think you’re the hottest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Well, I think you’re an ugly harpy. I hate, and I do mean hate kissing you. Sleeping with you is torture,” Harry shot back, his hands pushing underneath the gray uniform skirt she wore. His fingers gently caressed the creamy skin of her thighs, his smile growing as her breath quickened.

“Your dick is so small, Potter. We’re never having kids of our own,” Daphne taunted, even as her body subconsciously spread her legs for him.

“Can’t the two of you flirt like normal people?” Hermione finally poked her head out of her book, glaring at her friends with a mixture of love and exasperation.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Daphne asked, her blouse already halfway unbuttoned. “I rile him up until he hate fucks me hard enough to rearrange my insides. It’s our version of a quiet night in.”

“He’s your husband.”

“Mione, would you be more comfortable if I kissed her boos boos every night instead?” Harry teased, turning around to wink at his best friend. Hermione flushed.

“I didn’t… I simply… I nursed Neville back to health after we rescued him and Luna from Malfoy Manor, okay? That’s all!” Hermione muttered hotly, her cheeks a dark red.

“I didn’t realize sucking dick is now a healer-approved technique to aid recovery from magical torture.”

Hermione glared at Daphne but had no response. The two of them had, after all, accidentally walked in on her doing exactly that one time in Shell Cottage. She could point out Daphne had been far more brazen in the tent, but the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Potter were so shamelessly in love with each other, there was no point in teasing them about it.

Instead, she opted for a different tactic. Deflection. “Why do you have an envelope in your hand?” She paused. Most of the Seventh Years to survive the final battle had gotten letters, including herself. Given that the magical male (and female, to a lesser degree) population had been decimated in the aftermath of the war either through death or imprisonment, their numbers had fallen to precarious levels.

To ensure their survival, Kingsley and the Wizengamot had taken drastic measures. The Unspeakables had divined the perfect mates for all unmarried witches and wizards, with letters informing them of the name of their mate and giving them a month before they had to marry. The process carried all the more importance for the Noble Families, many of which were on the verge of going extinct. There were many that expressed discomfort with the program, but given their dire situation, none were loud about their opposition.

“You’re married.”

“Yep. I married before the law,” Daphne replied, handing the letter to a confused Harry. “Which means I’m Lady Potter. There still needs to be a Lady Greengrass to give birth to the next Greengrass heir. Now, Harry will do the actual babymaking and I presume we’ll all be married as one… happy family?” She paused, but couldn’t come up with a better analogy. “But I’d still be the one to get the actual letter.”

She glanced at her husband, worried for a second. “You… you’re not mad, are you? I don’t mind sharing you… her… I guess we’ll all share each other. You know I like girls just a little less than I like you so I really don’t mind.”

“Your comments about my ass made that abundantly clear,” Hermione muttered, burying her face in her book once more.

Daphne was too worried to tease Hermione about her ‘asstacular’ bum.

“It’d be hypocritical of me to be mad. I got a letter too,” Harry said, pulling out an envelope from underneath a throw pillow.

Daphne glanced at the name on the envelope. ‘Lord Black.’

Of course. He’d need two different families, the same as her.

“Who’d you get?”

“Who’d you get?” Harry shot back, echoing her words.

“Open and find out.”

The two of them opened the envelopes at the same time, pulling out the small pieces of parchment that held the names of their mates.

“Lavender? Yeah, that’s never happening. Ron will probably get to her before you do,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. After all, the law was voided if, within thirty days, the person married someone else out of their own volition. “They didn’t do a great job of picking out the perfect mates, did they?”

“I could see her and her kids being Greengrasses.” Daphne shrugged.

“My point still stands.”

“Wanna bet?”

“What’s the wager?”

“Lavender will go out with me… and you, before the day is over.” Daphne extended a hand. Harry grasped it and shook it.

“What’re the stakes?”

“We’ll decide later. I want to see who you got.” Daphne pulled out the parchment and chuckled. The chuckle turned into a giggle, which turned into full-blown laughter. She’d have fallen off his lap had it not been for his hands on her waist. “Hannah? Hannah Abbott? She won’t last half an hour in bed with you daddy.”

“Want to alter the bet?”

“What do you have in mind?” Daphne raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll win over Hannah quicker than you win over Lavender.”

“Easiest bet ever.” Daphne grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “When I win we spend a week alternating between sitting next to Malfoy and Ronald for an entire week for all meals and I address you as nothing but daddy.”

Malfoy, because she knew the asshole had lusted after her for years and she wanted to see his dreams shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. As for Ron… she liked how flustered he got around PDA. It amused her.

“When I win you let me change the password to my own damned dorms,” Harry said simply, jerking his thumb towards the door of the Head Dormitory.

“Deal.” Daphne hopped off his lap, dusting off her skirt. “Let’s go. We’ll do Lavender first, maybe you can pick up some pointers.”

“We’re doing this right now?” Harry asked reluctantly.

“What, you need a week to prepare? It’s Abbott. She probably thinks fuzzy pink cuffs are kinky. It’s not like you need to learn anything new,” Daphne challenged, clearly looking to rile him up.

“Fine.”

“Granger, you’re our impartial judge.”

To Harry’s surprise, Hermione slammed her book shut and got to her feet, joining them by the door.

“Really?”

The brunette held up the chit with Neville’s name on it. “He’s busy in the greenhouse all day and I’m going stir-crazy imagining what married life with him will be like. At least this insane bet of yours is a good distraction.”

With that, the trio made their way down the hallway to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Harry supplied the password, and the three of them climbed through the hole to enter the warm, cozy and crowded Common Room.

Daphne attracted the occasional odd glance, but nearly everyone was used to and okay with Daphne Potter treating the Common Room as her second home.

“Wait.” Hermione grabbed Daphne’s arm. “I can’t believe I’m going along with this harebrained scheme of yours but… if you want the bet to be objective, you two need to define what ‘winning them over’ means.”

Daphne pondered on the conundrum for a minute. “They let you mark them.”

“With a hickey?”

Daphne nodded.

“She’s sitting on the couch by the fire. Ron’s next to her,” Hermione sighed, pulling out the time-turner-shaped pocket watch from her jeans and pushing the knob. “The timer only runs for twelve hours.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll need even half that,” Daphne muttered, boldly making her way through the crowds toward Lavender.

“The entire room is full of students. Are you sure this is… wise?”

Harry smiled at his best friend, then nodded to Seamus and Parvati tucked away in an alcove. Parvati was on his lap, both of them partially undressed and locked in a passionate embrace. His gaze shifted to Dean, who was snogging Romilda on a couch right in the middle of the Common Room. “Everyone just wants to forget the pain and the loss, Mione. They want something to live for. Now they have it. Do you really think Daphne’s out of place here?”

Hermione shook her head. Daphne deserved a chance to forget her pain just as much as everybody else in the room. “What’d you think she’s going to do?”

“I mean… it’s Daphne. Some kind of subtle game?”

Daphne seemingly had a different idea in mind. She marched up to Lavender and pressed the envelope containing her name straight into her hand.

Lavender glanced at the Slytherin and then at the envelope that said Lady Greengrass, her eyes widening. “I thought they made a mistake. I mean… you’re already married…” she croaked, staring up at the gorgeous and intimidating woman with a scared smile.

The attack by Greyback had left her with partial lycanthropy, scars, and a deep sense of self-loathing. It was why she was on the couch in the first place, considering letting the man who had so cruelly dumped her into her panties once more.

“I am. Ironically, I’m Lady Potter. Harry and I… we still need a Lady Greengrass.”

“I…” Lavender paused. “You know? About my condition?“

“The broad details,” Daphne murmured kindly. Ron had simply withdrawn to the other end of the couch, content with glaring at Daphne. He knew better than to provoke her by word or by action by now. In what universe were he and Pansy compatible mates, he did not know.

If he had asked Daphne, she'd have told him that the Slytherin was just as insecure as he was, and that their need for constant praise and attention would have played off perfectly against each other. But he didn’t, so Daphne was free to ensure her complete attention was on the future Lady Greengrass.

“I understand if you don’t consider me to be suitable…” Lavender whispered, biting her lower lip.

Daphne growled and grabbed her wrists, pinning her arms to the cushion of the sofa as she climbed onto her lap, uncaring of who was watching. “You’re a warrior, Brown. The Greengrass line will flourish with your blood flowing through their veins,” she whispered, daring Lavender to dispute her claim.

Lavender tried a different tactic instead. “I uhm… I have needs… you’ll find them odd…”

Terribly vague, but Daphne was smart enough to hazard a guess. “What, you go into heat depending on the Lunar Cycle?”

Lavender’s breath hitched. She nodded shyly.

Daphne slowly began to roll her hips against Lavender’s drawing out a quiet, involuntary moan from her lips. Daphne could see her nipples pebble through the purple tank top she wore and she kept going, slowly grinding her mate into submission. “Are you in heat right now, pet?”

Lavender nodded again, her eyes silently begging Daphne to take care of her.

Daphne’s hand shifted from her wrist to the back of her head, pulling her closer as she buried her face in the crook of her neck. “Are you going to be good for Harry and me, pet?” Daphne asked, her voice muffled.

“Mhm!” Lavender bit her lower lip to stifle her moan, her panties completely soaked. A large damp spot was forming on her jeans, the unmistakable scent of arousal hanging in the air around them. All rational thought was quickly replaced by a primal desire to be bred and please her newfound alpha and her mistress. She was theirs. They would take care of her.

“Good girl.” Daphne closed her lips around her pulse point, all while grinding against her. She sank her teeth into her flawless skin, a strangled sob escaping Lavender’s throat as she was marked.

Lavender’s eyes flitted over to Harry, giddy with excitement as she realized he was watching the two of them intently. If only he had marked her as well… Perhaps he would. She made up her mind to ask.

Daphne pulled away with a satisfied smirk, winking at a dumbfounded Ron before she got to her feet, pulling Lavender along with her.

The two women made their way to where Harry and Hermione were standing, both sporting smiles. One triumphant, the other dazed and shy.

“Wow,” Harry whispered, staring at Lavender’s perfect hourglass figure with wolfish hunger.

“It’s… I didn’t expect that,” Hermione added with a nervous chuckle. “That was…”

“A winning play?” Daphne teased, her stormy gray eyes sparkling. “Ready to give up, daddy?”

“Without even trying? No chance.” Harry motioned for them to follow him out of the Common Room.

“Where are we going?” Lavender whispered, pressing into Daphne’s side and leaning her head on her mistress' shoulder. The mark on her neck throbbed, a constant reminder of how quickly things could change for the better.

“We just need to pick someone up, pet, then we’re going back to our dorms,” Daphne whispered as they trekked down to the basement and the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Finding Hannah, however, did not prove to be easy. She wasn’t in the Common Room or in her dorms. Their search of the kitchen came up empty as well, so Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map and tracked her down to the library.

They walked down the silent hallways to the library, Hermione poking her head inside to make sure the irascible librarian, Madam Pince, wasn’t around. She wasn’t. The entire room was quiet and empty with the exception of a single table that was occupied by Hannah and a few of her housemates.

“Coast is clear,” Hermione murmured, pulling out her pocket watch once more.

Harry strode into the empty library, making his way straight to the table where the tiny blonde sat. Hannah Abbott was a wisp of a thing, barely reaching up to his chest. Her quiet personality matched her diminutive figure. She was friendly, kind, and nice to everyone. Well, everyone except bullies. Harry had seen what she’d done to Crabbe after the arse had tried to bully a first-year Hufflepuff. His little badger had claws.

In a strange way, he could understand why the Unspeakables thought they’d be good together.

“Harry,” Hannah smiled at the sight of the tall, messy-haired man walking towards her. “Come to join us in some late-night studying?” she asked, getting to her feet. She leaned up as far as she could, but still could only manage to kiss his jaw.

“Come to take you,” Harry whispered in a low growl. He pushed his hands under her arms and effortlessly lifted her tiny body, letting her lock her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck before he carried her around a bookshelf, partially shielding them from view.

None of her friends followed them, only too aware of what was happening.

“Here?” Hannah asked with wide eyes as she was set down on a table.

“My dorms. Just need a minute here first.” Harry didn’t elaborate. She still wore her white blouse, the high collar impeding access to her neck. His practiced fingers flew over the buttons, the blouse hanging from her shoulders within seconds. She only wore a thin semi-transparent shift underneath, the outline of her pert breasts, large pink areolas, and nipples clearly visible through them.

“You’re mine, Hannah Abbott,” he growled, tugging on her waist-length blonde hair. He mimicked Daphne’s actions, burying his face in the crook of her neck, ruthlessly sucking a hickey onto her creamy skin.

Hannah’s loud moan elicited chuckles and wolf whistles from their audience across the bookshelf. She was too far gone to care, already giving herself over to the lust that had been building up ever since Harry had met her by the kitchens.

Harry pulled away with a triumphant smile. He pushed Hannah down on the table, his hand lazily kneading her petite breasts as he watched Hermione, Daphne, and Lavender walk in.

“I… how?” Hermione asked, completely dumbfounded once more. She didn’t look at the watch. She didn’t need to, to know Harry had won. By a huge margin at that.

“You already talked to her,” Daphne said shrewdly. “You cheated.”

“I met up with her the minute we got the letters to make sure she was okay with it.”

“She clearly is,” Hermione said dryly, looking at Hannah. Hannah had a blissful expression on her face and was mewling quietly as Harry toyed with her body.

“I hope you know you’re sleeping on the couch for a week, Mr. Potter,” Daphne growled, annoyed (and secretly more than a little proud) that he had hustled her.

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry grinned. “I won.”

---

“Well, the school still seems to be standing,” Professor McGonagall murmured, topping up her visitor’s glass of firewhiskey.

“The Unspeakables obviously did a good job.” Aurora raised her glass in a toast before taking a sip.

“Being good on paper and actually living life as a married couple are two very different things, Aurora. I begged Kingsley to give them more time than a month so they could figure out how to live together before they married.”

“What’d he say?”

“His hands are tied. Wizengamot barely has enough members for a quorum. They want to secure the coming generations as fast as possible.”

Aurora sighed. She suddenly understood why the Headmistress had called her for an impromptu late-night meeting.

“You want me to start the Academy again.” It wasn’t a question.

“It was a force for good, Aurora. You know that! You helped witches be ready for the real world. It’s a pity Albus shut it down during the war…”

“The war killed in more ways than one, Minerva. It took lives, and for those who lived, it made life not worth living.”

“So you’ll do it?”

Aurora sighed, then nodded. “Yes, Minerva. I’ll reopen my Academy.”

Notes:

The next chapter of The Power He Knows Not will be uploaded tomorrow instead of today! I needed to read up on Hogsmeade to write Harry and Padma's date since I'd forgotten a fair few shop names and what they sold. Thank you to the Patron who suggested this idea! I also retitled this story. I didn't want to infodump in chapter 1 itself, so you will learn more about the past deviations in Canon as the chapters progress! Remember to join my Discord to talk to me and discuss stories!