“Bro, is that true?”
“Eh?” Harry took out his earbuds and turned around. “Sorry, what?”
His roommate, Dean Thomas, leaned forward, almost tipping over his chair in the process. “I said, is it true that you made Daphne Greengrass bark like a dog?”
“I’m tellin’ ya, bro,” Dean’s friend, Seamus, interjected as he cracked open a beer. “I saw the whole thing. Made her get on all fours’n everything.”
Harry cringed. It was bad enough that Dean had decided to do his pregame drinking in their cramped dorm room, but now his “bro” was confirming Harry’s worst fear: the rumors about the variety show were spreading. And it hadn’t even taken two days.
“Bro, that’s fuckin’ badass!” Dean slapped his forehead. “Why don’t you tell me this shit?”
“W-well, that’s not exactly how it happened,” Harry replied.
“So...” Dean gestured eagerly for Harry to continue. “What happened then?”
“Eh, well...” Honestly, Harry still wasn’t sure himself. He had run off the stage to find Cho as soon as his act had ended, but she was gone without a trace. By the time he got back to the dining hall, Daphne had exited too, leaving Ron the sole outside observer. And she was not happy with Harry. To her, it looked like he had taken advantage of Daphne for his own perverse gratification. Harry spent the rest of the night apologizing and explaining that it wasn’t like that, that it was impossible to hypnotize somebody into doing something they didn’t want to do. And anyway:
“Daphne was probably just pretending to be hypnotized,” Harry shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she only volunteered to mess with me.”
“Huh,” Seamus scratched his head. “You sure?”
“Bro,” Dean slapped Seamus’s shoulder. “That chick’s always playin’ these fucked up head games. I know this one dude who pissed her off in high school? She pretended to date him for like a month just so she could break up with him in front of his family. On Christmas. And she kept the gift card he got her, too.”
“Bro...” Seamus whispered in awe.
Harry chuckled weakly and turned back to his work. But it was no use now: his mind was running on overdrive. Was Daphne playing some long game to set up his downfall? If she was, it was a mystery to him what she hoped to gain. Plus, he had felt something happen that night. Harry wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t like his other attempts at hypnotism. It felt different.
It felt...powerful.
Regardless, it was probably true that he was in Daphne’s crosshairs now. Hopefully, he could avoid her until things cooled off between them.
A knock at the door pulled him out of his anxious cloud.
“Oh shit, hide the firewhiskey!” Seamus exclaimed.
Harry got up and opened the door, expecting the rest of Dumbledore’s guard. To barge in and join the party. Instead, greeting him on the other side was a pretty, but all-too-familiar face.
“Hey,” Daphne said, sending a bolt of ice down his spine.
A startled “Oh shit” escaped Dean before he quickly clamped his mouth shut. Daphne shot a glare at the offending roommate before training her gaze on Harry.
“I assume you’re not going to the quidditch game, right?” she said.
“Um. No. Since the Umbrich, somehow, I have lost my enthusiasm for flying.”
“Good. Then ditch the brodown, grab your coat, and meet me outside. There’s something we need to talk about.”
Harry stiffened. “I-if this is about Thursday,” he whispered, careful not to let the other guys hear. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry and—”
“I said there’s something we need to talk about,” Daphne hissed, her eyes narrowing. “Alone.”
_________________________________
“Whoa,” Harry couldn’t help but gape as Daphne led him into her apartment, which she received as chief prefect. It was a far cry from the dorms the other were stuck with. A fully stocked kitchen looked out at an expansive common room, complete with chic furniture, a and a gorgeous view of the Forbidden Forest. It was obvious that the girls living here were used to looking down on the rest of the student body. It was also obvious that they had just finished some pregame rituals of their own: they littered the tables with half-empty liquor bottles, and Harry could identify the red-cup remnants of at least a three different drinking games.
“Feel free to help yourself to whatever,” Daphne said as she slipped out of her coat. “Tracey’s house-elf replaces it every week, anyway.”
“Um, thanks,” Harry nodded, at a loss among the high-class detritus. “Can I, uh, get you anything?”
Daphne frowned. “No thanks. I want my head clear about what happens next.”
Harry paused. He hadn’t noticed it before thanks to her robes she was wearing, but Daphne was dressed awfully nice. A tight skirt was wrapped around her legs, complimented by thigh-high stockings and a blouse with just the right number of buttons undone. If he didn’t know any better, Harry would say she was about to take him out on a date.
“So... what IS going to happen next?” he asked.
“You’re going to have a seat. And then you’re going to answer my questions honestly.” She crossed her arms. “I can make your life very miserable if you don’t.”
Harry swallowed. “Undoubtedly.”
“Okay.” Daphne exhaled, then sat across from him. “What I want to know is... what exactly did you do to me during the show?”
Harry blinked, taken aback. “I, um, what do you mean?”
“I mean, how did you convince me to act like a puppy on stage in front of everyone?”
Harry’s pulse quickened. It couldn’t be. Did he actually...? “Um, I-I didn’t know I ‘did’ anything to you. I thought you were acting.”
Daphne let out a hollow laugh. “I wish.”
“Um. I guess I probably hypnotized you then, right? I mean, that was what I was trying to do.”
“That’s not it. I did some research after the show. There’s no way someone like you could’ve put me under with a single word like that. And you definitely shouldn’t have been able to, um,” she fidgeted, “to make me do things against my will. Hypnosis doesn’t work like that.”
“Then... what do you think happened?”
Daphne hesitated. “I think...” she bit her lip. “I think you, like... mind-controlled me. Or something.”
There it was. The answer that Harry had forced himself not to consider. The impossible possibility that made too perfect a sense to be true. Of course, there was a part of him that longed for that to be the case. What amateur hypnotist wouldn’t want to be able to control people's minds? But reality didn’t work that way.
Did it?
Daphne’s anxious gaze brought Harry back to the present. For the first time, he realized she looked just as nervous as he did. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Mind control. That’s. That’s a possibility. I guess.”
“So, you’d never done something like that before,” she intuited.
Harry let out a shaky laugh. “N-not that I’m aware of.”
Daphne looked down. “Do you think...” her voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry?”
She crossed her legs. “Do you think...you could do it again?”
_________________________
“Let me get this straight: you want me to try to... take control of you?” Harry asked, anxiously swiveling back and forth on Daphne’s desk chair. The two of them were in her room now, behind a door that Harry couldn’t help but notice she locked.
She sat on the bed across from him now, smoothing the soft, silver-green comforter with her hands. “Y-yeah. I mean, that’s the only way we’re going to figure all this out, right? Think of it as a science experiment. Or something.”
“Uh, huh.” If Harry was a scientist, this was not his idea of a laboratory. He could count the number of girls’ rooms he’d been in on one hand, and they never got any more comfortable for him. The intimate atmosphere felt like it magnified every sound and gesture, making them heavy and cumbersome with meaning.
Or maybe he was overthinking things. Harry did that when he was nervous.
It was a little surprising to discover that Daphne wasn’t the neat freak he assumed she was. Her desk was a mess of textbooks and loose papers, her floor littered with piles of clothes arranged according to a system he was sure only she could decipher. He guessed being queen of the social scene after the war didn’t leave much time for cleaning.
“Do you, um,” Daphne’s words snapped Harry back to the present. “Do you remember how you did it the first time?”
“Sort of?” Harry crossed his arms, trying to replay the events in his head. “It was like... this part of my brain, responsible for magic, opened, and this wave of power just came rushing down through me. And then my voice got all... I dunno...”
“Compelling, maybe it’s some kind of wandless magic,” Daphne finished, then looked away when Harry’s gaze met hers. “D-do you remember what caused this change?” she stuttered.
Harry hesitated. What was he supposed to say? That the sudden reappearance of his love from a few years ago had caused him to snap? That the first girl he fell in love with, a girl he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with, had for some reason shown up at a school she which she has already completed, stumbled into his pathetic hypnosis show, and inspired him to discover secret mind control abilities?
“Um, thanks,” Harry nodded, at a loss among the high-class detritus. “Can I, uh, get you anything?”
Daphne frowned. “No thanks. I want my head clear about what happens next.”
Harry paused. He hadn’t noticed it before thanks to her robes she was wearing, but Daphne was dressed awfully nice. A tight skirt was wrapped around her legs, complimented by thigh-high stockings and a blouse with just the right number of buttons undone. If he didn’t know any better, Harry would say she was about to take him out on a date.
“So... what IS going to happen next?” he asked.
“You’re going to have a seat. And then you’re going to answer my questions honestly.” She crossed her arms. “I can make your life very miserable if you don’t.”
Harry swallowed. “Undoubtedly.”
“Okay.” Daphne exhaled, then sat across from him. “What I want to know is... what exactly did you do to me during the show?”
Harry blinked, taken aback. “I, um, what do you mean?”
“I mean, how did you convince me to act like a puppy on stage in front of everyone?”
Harry’s pulse quickened. It couldn’t be. Did he actually...? “Um, I-I didn’t know I ‘did’ anything to you. I thought you were acting.”
Daphne let out a hollow laugh. “I wish.”
“Um. I guess I probably hypnotized you then, right? I mean, that was what I was trying to do.”
“That’s not it. I did some research after the show. There’s no way someone like you could’ve put me under with a single word like that. And you definitely shouldn’t have been able to, um,” she fidgeted, “to make me do things against my will. Hypnosis doesn’t work like that.”
“Then... what do you think happened?”
Daphne hesitated. “I think...” she bit her lip. “I think you, like... mind-controlled me. Or something.”
There it was. The answer that Harry had forced himself not to consider. The impossible possibility that made too perfect a sense to be true. Of course, there was a part of him that longed for that to be the case. What amateur hypnotist wouldn’t want to be able to control people's minds? But reality didn’t work that way.
Did it?
Daphne’s anxious gaze brought Harry back to the present. For the first time, he realized she looked just as nervous as he did. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Mind control. That’s. That’s a possibility. I guess.”
“So, you’d never done something like that before,” she intuited.
Harry let out a shaky laugh. “N-not that I’m aware of.”
Daphne looked down. “Do you think...” her voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry?”
She crossed her legs. “Do you think...you could do it again?”
_________________________
“Let me get this straight: you want me to try to... take control of you?” Harry asked, anxiously swiveling back and forth on Daphne’s desk chair. The two of them were in her room now, behind a door that Harry couldn’t help but notice she locked.
She sat on the bed across from him now, smoothing the soft, silver-green comforter with her hands. “Y-yeah. I mean, that’s the only way we’re going to figure all this out, right? Think of it as a science experiment. Or something.”
“Uh, huh.” If Harry was a scientist, this was not his idea of a laboratory. He could count the number of girls’ rooms he’d been in on one hand, and they never got any more comfortable for him. The intimate atmosphere felt like it magnified every sound and gesture, making them heavy and cumbersome with meaning.
Or maybe he was overthinking things. Harry did that when he was nervous.
It was a little surprising to discover that Daphne wasn’t the neat freak he assumed she was. Her desk was a mess of textbooks and loose papers, her floor littered with piles of clothes arranged according to a system he was sure only she could decipher. He guessed being queen of the social scene after the war didn’t leave much time for cleaning.
“Do you, um,” Daphne’s words snapped Harry back to the present. “Do you remember how you did it the first time?”
“Sort of?” Harry crossed his arms, trying to replay the events in his head. “It was like... this part of my brain, responsible for magic, opened, and this wave of power just came rushing down through me. And then my voice got all... I dunno...”
“Compelling, maybe it’s some kind of wandless magic,” Daphne finished, then looked away when Harry’s gaze met hers. “D-do you remember what caused this change?” she stuttered.
Harry hesitated. What was he supposed to say? That the sudden reappearance of his love from a few years ago had caused him to snap? That the first girl he fell in love with, a girl he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with, had for some reason shown up at a school she which she has already completed, stumbled into his pathetic hypnosis show, and inspired him to discover secret mind control abilities?
That should be adequate. She had noticed the way his eyes had been clinging to her—how he had watched the sway of her hips and glimpsed the hint of cleavage peeking from her blouse. Heck, the mere suggestion of a full-frontal showcase had been enough to produce a prominent bulge between his legs, evidence which he tried and failed to hide. All by design.
“Yes, I...think I can work with that,” Harry said before closing his eyes.
Daphne adjusted her position on the bed, squaring up and adopting what she hoped was a defiant pose. Even if this was her idea, she wasn’t going to give in just like that. It was still possible that the show was a fluke; it was possible that Harry wouldn’t be able to break her. That would be a victory in itself: it would prove that she was still a Greengrass. That all the high expectations and hard lessons of her childhood weren’t for nothing. That—
“Take off your clothes,” Harry commanded.
The words cascaded through Daphne like a tidal wave. She felt her hands go to her blouse, ripping a couple buttons free before she was able to stop herself.
“You stopped.” Harry raised his eyebrows.
Daphne blinked, her sense of balance returning. “Uh, yeah, I did.” She exhaled, not sure if she should be proud or disappointed. She was definitely showing more than a hint of cleavage now, but her clothes had stayed on. Which meant she had won. Right?
“How did that feel?” Harry asked.
“It was... different, I think,” she answered. “It didn’t, like, make me go all space-y like before, but I definitely felt...something.”
Harry thought for a moment. “Take off your clothes.”
Daphne’s hands jerked up to her blouse again, but her strength returned faster this time, allowing her to resist before she disrobed further.
“You recovered quicker that time,” Harry observed. “Like you were ready for it.”
“Y-yeah,” Daphne muttered. Goddammit. Why didn’t he look more concerned? The Harry she was speaking to just moments ago would be a puddle of nerves by now. So why were the eyes surveying her so cool and calculating?
And why did it make her heart beat faster?
“Hm. Interesting,” he mused. “So far, we’ve proven that I have some sort of preternatural power of suggestion, but it’s not as simple as flipping a switch on your brain. Maybe it works like hypnosis. At the variety show, it could be that I created an effect similar to a shock induction: overloading your senses, so you had no choice but to follow my command into trance. But here, you’re expecting it, so it doesn’t work as well.”
“Sure, that sounds...right.” Daphne’s eyes narrowed. Harry was speaking academically, but she saw that glint in his gaze again. This wasn’t empty hypothesizing: this was a blade being sharpened.
“This also shows that a subject’s willpower can resist my suggestions. And I bet someone as smart and confident as you have pretty high mental resilience.”
“Thanks.” Daphne crossed her arms, allowing herself a confident smirk. “But flattery will get you nowhere. I’ve cut down plenty of guys who thought they could sweet talk me out of my clothes.”
To her surprise, Harry returned the smile. “But what if I tried a different strategy?”
Daphne’s pulse skipped a beat. “Uh... y-you can try... but...”
“What if I tried something a bit more subtle? A bit more soothing? A bit more like a progressive induction?”
“P-progressive...?” This was weird. She wasn’t used to the voice being so conversational. She felt like she should answer back, but...was that what he wanted? Shouldn’t she be resisting what he wanted? The conflict made her dizzy.
“It’s okay. These are rhetorical questions, Daphne. You don’t have to answer me. You don’t have to think too hard. Relax and listen.
Relax and listen. That was okay... right? There was no harm in just listening.
“It feels good to listen doesn’t it?”
Daphne smiled.
“There, see? I can tell it does. My voice makes you feel so good. So relaxed.”
Daphne’s arms slipped to her sides. Harry was right. His voice did make her feel good. And she was feeling very relaxed.
No. Wait. This was a trap, wasn’t it? She should fight. But fight what? He didn’t give her a command; he was just...just...
“What’s great about relaxing and listening is that it’s so easy and natural. Your body just does it automatically, without you even having to think about it. You can just let your mind wander, let all the stress and strain of the day just drain out of you. It’s as easy as breathing in and out. More and more relaxed with each inhale and exhale.”
A long, involuntary sigh escaped Daphne. It was just like Harry said. With every exhale, her muscles loosened, releasing the tension they had been storing up. And each time she inhaled, she could feel the relaxation floating into her, making her thoughts languid and airy.
“That’s right. In and out. Just relax and listen.”
Relax and listen.
“It feels good to relax and listen.”
Daphne’s eyelids fluttered. It felt so, so good to relax and listen.
“It feels good to relax and listen and obey.”
Huh? That didn’t seem... right. But that’s what she was doing, wasn’t it? Relaxing, listening and...and...
“Say it with me Daphne: it feels good to relax and listen and...”
Daphne exhaled, the last word reverberating from deep inside her chest. “Obey.”
“That’s right. It feels good to relax and listen and obey. You like to feel good, don’t you?”
Yes. God, yes.
“It makes sense then that you also like to relax and listen to my voice, right?”
It was too hard to think of a reason why not.
“And that must mean you also like to obey.”
Wait. That wasn’t...no, there was something wrong there. She couldn’t argue that it felt good but... liking to obey...that didn’t sound like her. That wasn’t who she was. Was it?
“You’re a very logical girl, aren’t you, Daphne?”
Huh? Where did that come from? She couldn’t deny it was true, but...
“I know it’s very hard to think for you right now, but since you’re a very logical girl, so I know you can figure this out. Follow me now: it’s true that it feels good to relax and listen and obey. You like to relax and listen. Therefore, you must also like to...”
“Obey,” the word came out easier this time. Daphne was a very logical girl, after all.
“Very good. See, doesn’t that feel nice?”
Daphne beamed and bobbed her head, shaking the happy bubbles in her brain.
“You’re doing so well. Now say it out loud: you like to obey.”
Daphne sighed dreamily. “I like to obey.”
“You love to obey.”
“I love to obey.”
“Do you know why?”
Daphne’s brow furrowed. Huh? Didn’t they just...weren’t they just talking about...
“It’s a rhetorical question, Daphne, remember? You don’t have to answer. You don’t have to think. You just have to obey. Because obeying feels so, so good.”
Oohhh, that’s right. She didn’t have to think. She just had to...had to obey. And she loved to obey. It was only logical. And easy. Like breathing. Easy and natural.
“And do you know why obeying me makes you feel so nice? So relaxed and happy?”
She couldn’t wait for Harry to tell her.
“Because I am your Master.”
“Master...” Daphne shivered as she repeated the word. She couldn’t help herself—it was such a perfect word. So powerful, so true. Everything made wonderful sense now.
Because Harry was her Master.
_____________________________
“Because I am your Master,” Harry stated.
His subject shivered, her lips repeating the phrase absently. “Master.”
A jolt of excitement raced through Harry’s body. He had done it: he had convinced Daphne to surrender. Now her once defiant gaze was glazed over with blissful adoration, her mouth hanging open in vacant anticipation. No doubt her brain was swimming in the pleasure and submission Harry had spent the last ten minutes pouring into her.
Harry closed his eyes, taking a moment to steady himself. Truth be told, he was feeling a little groggy too. It took an intense amount of concentration to maintain his Voice, a focus that blocked out everything else but his immediate desires. In some ways, this was a blessing: he didn’t have the time or energy to get nervous or second-guess himself like he usually did.
But on the other hand, acting on instinct like this was a new sensation for Harry. It was exhilarating, but something about it also felt... dangerous. Like at any moment, he might get swept away by the very current he was pulling Daphne into.
No time to dwell on that now though: he had a challenge to win. “You’re still listening closely, aren’t you, Daphne? You can answer now.”
“Yes, Master. I’m listening.”
“You know that obeying me, pleasing me, makes you feel good. And the more you please me, the better you feel.”
Daphne let out a small moan as she shifted her weight on her hips. “Yes, Master.”
Harry moved his leg aside, making sure Daphne could see the erection straining against his jeans.
“You can see how much you’re already pleasing me, can’t you?”
Her breath caught, as though the mere suggestion of his hard cock had sent a wave of arousal through her. “Yes, Master,” she murmured.
“Then imagine how pleased I will be when you strip naked at the snap of my fingers. Right now.”
*Snap*
Daphne rose to her feet in an instant. She pulled open the few remaining buttons on her blouse before fumbling out of it, her unsteady movements caught between the heaviness of the trance and her newfound need to obey.
Her bra was next to go, her breasts jiggling as she threw the item away and bent over to peel off her stockings and skirt. Harry noticed with some intrigue that she was wearing black lace panties underneath, a soft, dainty item with tiny ribbons of red, like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
Had she expected things to go this way? The choice of underwear implied as much. Harry wanted to be flattered, but another part of him—the part that spoke with the Voice—was annoyed at having his sense of control subverted.
Fortunately, his subject seemed unaware of his inner conflict. She hooked her fingers into the thin elastic without a second thought, sliding the smooth fabric down her long, quivering legs and onto the floor. She took a step to the side and stood up straight, swaying delicately like a flower in the breeze.
Harry had done it. He had won.
And what a prize to behold: Daphne Greengrass, destroyer of young men, standing dazed and obedient, fully exposed for his appraisal; her pert breasts pushed forward; her nipples were erect and at attention; the smooth curve of her hips flowing into long legs of softest white. And between them, a glistening offering that Harry had doubted more than one or two men had ever received.
Harry raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers and wake Daphne out of her trance. To see her turn scarlet with embarrassment, to know that he had bested her with a power he could’ve never even dreamed of wielding—that was an enough triumph for one day.
And yet, his hand hesitated.
The dark waters within him were restless, their longing waves pushing him onward, demanding more. The Voice inside was saying that this was not victory. Not yet. He had merely played according to Daphne’s rules—true triumph was found in ruling others.
“Very g-good Daphne,” Harry said, hoping to stall his own growing inclinations. “You’re being a very g-good girl.”
The word caused Daphne’s entire body to quiver. Her head titled slightly upwards, her eyes fluttering with ecstasy. “Thank you, Master,” she breathed.
Harry tried to calm himself. To think rationally. But the longer he stared at his slave—no, subject, subject—the stronger the currents within him became. Her breathing was shallow and longing; her face flushed with desperate arousal; even standing, she made sure to keep her legs comfortably spread, her pussy practically dripping. The entirety of her being was open and available for Harry to use her.
Use her. Use her.
“Sit down Daphne,” Harry commanded. She lowered herself back on the bed with a small moan, her tits bouncing slightly as she settled onto the mattress. The movement had apparently given her body an idea though: even as she stared back at Harry with docile, submissive patience, her hips began subtly rocking back and forth, rubbing her pussy on the sheets, leaving damp spots in its wake.
Harry bit his lip, forcing his feet to remain in place. He wasn’t going to touch her. That line he wouldn’t cross. But there was still a way to claim this moment as his. Hopefully, that would be enough.
“You’re feeling very horny, aren’t you Daphne?”
Daphne’s mouth was barely able to form words in between husky breaths. “Yes. Master. Horny. So horny.”
“You know that your body longs for release. And you also know that nothing feels better than pleasing your Master. So when I snap my fingers next, you’re going to play with your body for me. I want you to bring yourself to the edge of climax, and then I want you to beg your Master to cum. Like a good girl should. And you want to be a good girl, don’t you, Daphne?”
Daphne gripped the mattress tight. “Want to...be a good girl...” She doubled over with need, tits shaking as she continued to fruitlessly hump the mattress. “Want to...need to...”
*Snap*
Harry’s subject let out a tiny squeal of delight, her hand flying between her legs as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Her entire body was in carnal motion, her legs spread wide, her free hand kneading her breast, her hips swaying in time with the gasps and moans of pleasure leaking from her lips. One look at her, and Harry could tell that she was truly lost: that he had taken his scheming opponent and reduced her to an empty vessel of lust and submission. All with the power of his Voice.
His Voice. His Voice. His Voice was telling him she was helpless. She was his. His Voice didn’t want to be quiet. It wanted more. More.
The vibrations of Harry’s omnidirectional mirror, which after the war, have become almost indispensable for doing any business. Hermione examined the two-way mirrors and improved them. Now her company is slowly taking over the entire magical world. On the desk snapped his attention away from the display in front of him. He went to silence the device, annoyed, only for the caller to stop him in his tracks.
Cho was calling him.
Harry stared in disbelief, the churning waters inside of him suddenly frozen with shock and dread. He shouldn’t answer. Should he? But if he didn’t, who knows when she would call again? It had already been two years—this could be his only chance to get answers about the night of the variety show.
And... about that other night, too.
“H-hello?” Harry said, scooping the mirror to his ear.
“Uh, hey, Harry,” Cho’s soft voice answered.
“M-master,” Daphne moaned behind him.
Oh shit.
“H-hey Cho!” Harry exclaimed quickly, walking to where he hoped was out of audio range of the brainless, masturbating girl on the bed. “It’s uh, it’s been a while. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Um. Yeah. Same to you too.” Cho paused. Harry could almost picture her expression, the cute pout her lips did whenever she was thinking of something to say. “I a-actually was at your, um, your show a couple nights ago.”
“Oh, that was you. Huh. I, uh, th-thought I—”
“Yeah, I think you—”
“Saw—oh, sorr—”
“No, sorry, you go.”
Daphne gasped. “Master p-please. I n-need to...need to...”
Harry shot a look over his shoulder and nearly had a heart attack. Daphne had slid off the bed and was on her knees now, one hand propping her up, the other still furiously edging her pussy into oblivion. Her entire body shook. Drool hung from her open mouth.
“You, um” Harry began. But the words died in his throat.
Cho sighed. “I just wanted to say I was sorry for, um, disappearing from the show like that. I meant to come talk to you but, when I saw you noticed me, I...kinda freaked out and ran. I feel really bad about it.”
“Th-that’s okay,” Harry said, hoping Daphne would focus her eyes long enough to see him mouth “cum for me,” at her.
“A-anyway,” Cho continued. “Uh, one of the things I was going to tell you was that I-I actually transferred here to Hogsmeade U. So, um. If you ever wanted to, you know...hang out or catch up...”
“Oh, y-yeah, Cho totally!”
“Great. Um.” paused. “I’ll text you?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Beep. The call disconnected.
Harry lowered the communication mirror, shell-shocked by what just happened. After being apart for so long, he and Cho were now schoolmates. And what’s more, she wanted to meet with him. Why? After what they’d been through... after what he’d said to her... why would she suddenly...
“”M-master, I-I neeeeed t-to-to..."
Oh crap. That’s right. “Cum for me,” Harry ordered.
He didn’t even need the Voice; Daphne came with a scream.