Daddy
You can find more of this on by SubscribeStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it’s posted past FwB2 Ch. 30 there. You can find the same on my new Patreon (via Discord per their ToS), under /WildErotica. The DISCORD is at https://discord.gg/N9yDASt6Cw . If you prefer direct links, go to my Discord and follow the ‘links in general’ section to find the ones you want. All of my fics are well ahead of what I post here, often 10-30 chapters ahead.
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NOTE: This chapter deals with past blood-related family sexual stuff. It will (almost certainly) happen again later, but in parts I've written it has not (yet). Just be aware.
Chap. 27: Daddy
Harry groaned as he sat up. “A kid… I’m seventeen. Shit.”
“Yes,” he heard Lilith’s familiar voice giggle from behind and to his left. He had been laying on one of the couches in the drawing room off the kitchen, though he couldn’t remember moving in there. He did remember what Fleur had said, of course, and the sinking feeling as darkness overtook his vision much more slowly than the effects of a Stunning Spell, but faster than any other time he’d ever lost consciousness. Even faster than the Dementors on the train before his third year.
“How… how is Fleur?” he asked quietly, turning to sit properly and burying his face in his hands. “I bet she’s upset, after I… what, passed out?”
“In good spirits, actually,” Lilith said with a smile, clearly amused herself, “Seemed to be pleased she’d won a bet with her mother. A little annoyed with you, too, but she’s joking about it with Hermione and Pansy, whom she’s now also told.”
“I see. Uh… did you… you know, know?”
“Did I know she was pregnant?”
Harry nodded. Lilith shook her head, “I did not, until you did. The spike of anxiety made me wonder if we were under attack, or about to be.”
“Hm. Figured you’d be able to… I don’t know, sense it, or something.”
“She, I think,” Lilith replied quietly, “though it’s still to early to tell for sure. I just get a feeling, now that I’m actively looking. But no, Master… My senses are good, but the little one is, what… about the size of a pinhead? There’s not much there to sense, yet, and Fleur’s emotions run very powerfully to begin with. I imagine you’ll actually feel her, if it is a girl, before I will… perhaps around the five or six month mark. Humans have nine-month gestation, right?”
“Yep. So… fuck. A kid. Girl, if you’re right.”
Lilith shrugged, back as her usual, petite self, “I think so, as I said, it’s hardly definite. Just a feeling. I’m hardly an expert, but the fetus will only have a few thousand or so brain cells, at most, so it’s not exactly sentient at the moment, much less an appreciable gender. The most in-depth I could say is that it has started developing a brain, heart, and spinal cord. Though that’s from Hermione, who apparently just knows everything.”
Harry laughed, “It does seem that way from time to time, yeah. I… this changes some things.”
“Just some?” Lilith grinned, then stood up from the chair she had occupied to step over to him and twist, sinking into Harry’s lap with her arms around his neck. His circled her waist, and he pulled her tight. “I mean, you have another reason to live, now,” she continued quietly, “but you had plenty of those. Not enough , but enough to change your outlook on the future. What’s so different now, Master?”
“Everything,” he murmured, then kissed the top of her rose-pink hair. “I’m gonna be a dad, Lilith. I didn’t expect to live to seventeen. Now I’m seventeen, and before I’m eighteen, I’ll have a kid. I… I have to grow up.”
The waifish Succubus actually snorted, her whole body shook with the motion. “Grow up, he says… Master, in many ways you’re the most mature person I’ve met on this plane, or mine for that matter. That includes your Headmaster who had more than a century on you. Your care and love for others speaks volumes. Do you have some learning and growing to do? Sure, absolutely. We all do. You’ll be a great father. Of that, I have no doubt.”
“I hope so,” Harry replied, then slipped a hand underneath her shirt to cup a tiny breast, “I wish… I hope… that I can live up to your expectations. To everyone’s. I want to have a big, happy family.”
“You will, if I’ve got anything to say about it, Master,” Lilith whispered, then tilted her head to both nibble on his earlobe, and present her own slender, pale neck for Harry’s lips. “I didn’t think you’d be in the mood, but I am not complaining… Daddy .”
Harry felt a shiver of arousal run down his body from his ears to his cock, which started to swell beneath Lilith’s pert little arse. “I wasn’t even really in the mood, until you said that, little one,” he growled softly into her neck, and gave her tit a more firm squeeze. “Does my girl want daddy’s dick…?”
“Always, Daddy,” Lilith giggled again, then ground her pelvis down onto him as the micro-skirt she had been wearing dissolved into the aether. Her halter-style shirt she left on, though the Succubus pulled it up to bare the slight mounds of her chest.
Harry looked down to see the Succubus wearing white, lacy knickers though he knew she rarely wore any. “Mm… trying to play innocent, are we? I know better, though. You might be Daddy’s Little Girl, but you’re a raging slag, aren’t you, sweetie?”
“For you, I am,” Lilith replied breathily, squirming a little as Harry pinched the nipple he had been palming, and the other hand gave her narrow waist a squeeze.
Harry grinned, as his hands moved to cup her further arse cheek, and slipped under Lilith’s thighs. He lifted then, not even straining the slightest with his new strength and her small size, and dropped her onto his suddenly upright cock with a well-practice motion.
“That’s my girl,” the wizard told her quietly, “you’re the perfect little sheath for daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”
“Mm… Daddy’s dick fills me up so good,” Lilith cooed, and rose slightly on him, then sank down again. “It’s been a while since we’ve done it like this, Daddy… usually we’re on a bed these days. Just sitting sideways in your lap is… mm… it feels so good.”
Harry’s eyes drifted closed as the Succubus rose and fell a few more times, the walls of her cunt tugging almost painfully, but deliciously so, against his rigid length. “You’re so tight, dear one… tighter than usual. I love it… it’s amazing.”
“Daddy… Daddy feels so good in me, too,” Lilith murmured, and she leaned against him, her head turned to snuggle into Harry’s shoulder while her torso changed from sliding along his whole length to just a couple of inches, almost fully buried inside her at all times.
They stayed like that for a while, well over twenty minutes, with the Succubus riding Harry sideways, hugging, their hands occasionally shifting to graze, caress, or lightly touch each other. To kiss, like lovers more than family, until the urge to release grew too great for Harry to handle. “I can’t… hold any more, little one,” Harry said quietly.
“Release it inside me, Daddy,” Lilith whimpered, her own body long since past the point of orgasm: She’d allowed herself three, though rather small ones compared to her normal intensity. “I want you to. I know I’m still too little, but I’d have your baby if I could.”
The first of those, her size, Harry knew was strictly part of the role-play they had been engaged in for a while. But the second…
His eyes drifted closed, imagining Lilith pregnant, both as she was now, and in Ron’s normal, bustier, taller size, and then somehow older, more like Lilian than even Ron’s usual in figure, though she retained the violet eyes and pink hair… as beautiful as ever, with a large, full belly. “I wish you could too, my love,” he whispered into her ear, “I love you. I love you as much as any of the others.”
“I know, Master,” Lilith replied, softer even than his own voice, and he felt a single tear of loss for what could never be hit his clavicle… from her, not himself.
But she didn’t stop the gentle motions of their intimate love-making, not even when Harry finally released with a sigh, flooding her insides and the couch, until she sucked it all back inside herself by habit more than any real desire. They stayed like that a while longer, the Succubus slowly moving on the Wizard, more to keep the emotional connection going strong than for physical pleasure and release, until Hermione, dressed differently than how she had been at breakfast in practical, work-style clothing, knocked and stuck her head in. “Sorry to interrupt… Katie’s dropped in the Floo, asked if we could help. She’s… nearly done packing, but needs some assistance with moving things, setting up object-Portkeys, and the like. Dobby and Winky are both already there, but I figured you might both want to come. Fleur is staying back with my parents and Romilda to hold down the fort with Kennedy, but Pansy is getting ready too.”
“We’ll be right there,” Harry nodded, and stood up after Lilith slid off of him with a hiss of pleasure and empty loss.
“Okay,” Hermione said quietly, “Er, and sorry to interrupt. I know you two haven’t had any alone time in a while… though I’m a bit jealous, as I haven’t either. Tonight, perhaps, Harry?”
“I’ll see what I can clear in my schedule, love,” he chuckled.
“Oh, no, the absolute horror of having too many women after some cuddle time,” she joked half-heartedly with a roll of her eyes, then turned to head back down the hall as Harry tucked himself away and Lilith-reformed proper work attire similar to Hermione’s.
Four exhaustive hours later, the work was mostly done. As they were a half-blood family living in a mostly-muggle neighborhood outside of London, in Rochester, Katie had told them on arrival that they had to keep magic extremely limited. The House-Elves had been put to work transporting boxes in the basement to a storage unit Katie had rented with some of her inheritance, but then had been asked to go, since she didn’t want to risk her neighbors spotting the creatures. Even if muggles had a hard time spotting anything magical.
The rest of them, Hermione, Lilith, Pansy, Harry, and Katie herself, had mostly through strength of arm and back taken dozens and dozens of neatly-taped and labeled cardboard boxes with things like, “Dad Bedroom,” or, “Kitchen Up,” and one smaller one, “My School,” which at first glance as Harry had closed it up seemed to contain things like awards, certificates, or drawings from when Katie had been in muggle primary school.
That sweaty, dusty job was mostly done now, and Hermione and Pansy were working side-by-side to deep-scrub the kitchen floor on their hands and knees with rags and buckets of soapy water, while Katie packed up the last few things to load into the moving van she had rented. Lilith had disappeared a few hours earlier to ‘poach a bit, if only to keep people’s noses out of Katie’s business’, and had not yet returned.
Which left Harry, waiting on Katie, with little to do. The rest of the house had already been cleaned, and now that things were packed up aside from the last few boxes, all that was left was finding Katie and locking the place up for now. She would be handing off the spare keys to the real estate agent that her parents had called a half-decent friend a few times the next day, with plans to put the place on the market and live on that money for a while, if necessary. The housing market worldwide, she had been told, was doing pretty well, and she would get more than a fair price for it.
Katie had told Harry after relaying that bit half-way through the loading process that she didn’t care one bit. She’d lost most of her family that year, either in the catastrophic attack on King’s Cross, or even earlier. As muggleborn and half-bloods, after all, her family had been ripe targets for the Death Eaters from the beginning. Even Harry could acknowledge that Katie’s association with him had little to nothing to do with why they were dead. Aside from even that, some of it was simply their bravery. They had fought the Death Eaters at King’s Cross, after all, and paid the price.
He found Katie in the small in-home office her parents had shared for their work, him as a solicitor who, as a muggle-born, had never found a decent job in the magical world despite his education thanks to the stultification of the ‘upper echelon’ of wizarding society, and Mrs. Bell as an author of, Harry had been amused to learn from Katie, ‘trashy romance novels of the sort Pansy and Hermione would both enjoy.’.
The older witch seemed mostly done, just a few picture-frames still hung on the walls, and the shelves were bare, the desks and the computers they had once held packed away among the first things in the van. Harry sighed, and squeezed Katie’s shoulder as he walked by, then stacked two of the three boxes atop each other and grunted as he lifted both.
“Tell me about him,” Harry said quietly as he returned to the nearly empty office a few minutes later to find Katie in the exact same spot, holding the same photograph frame in her hands: a non-magical one of a handsome dusky-skinned man in his mid-twenties, muscular, wearing a too-small jersey for West Ham, standing in front of Upton Park with a football cupped in one arm, and the other around the shoulders of a slightly lighter-skinned woman who strongly resembled Katie herself, with perhaps another five to ten years on her.
But it was the man who held Katie’s eyes, his face her thumb brushed over every twenty or so seconds.
She jumped as Harry repeated the words, this time from much closer with his arm around her shoulder. “Oh, Harry… S- Sorry, I…”
“No need to apologize,” Harry murmured quietly and gave her a squeeze. He and Katie had always been close, ever since his first year. As the two youngest players on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, it had fallen to them in many ways to make a friendship happen if only to keep the older players from running roughshod over them. Wood, especially, but secondarily Angelina and the Weasley twins. Though they had only been truly intimate a few times now, Harry felt like he had a more, well, ‘normal’, relationship with Katie than with any other of the ladies in his circle except possibly Hermione.
Certainly, Katie was the most ‘normal’ of the witches he loved… and Harry knew without a doubt that she fell among that number, even if he’d never said it to her.
Even that was mostly because he felt the young witch had more than enough on her emotional plate as it was, with the recent deaths of most of her family.
“He… he’s the reason I love Quidditch,” Katie said, her voice low, almost growling in its intensity, though he could tell she was simply trying not to sob, and barely held it to a bit of shake. “All sport, really… He grew up here, just down the street. Said once he was r- really surprised to get his Hogwarts letter. Mum was always more like, well, Hermione I s’pose. Active, she liked to hike and walk and bike, but was never much of a flyer or football fan. Dad, though…”
Her breath hitched, and she turned into Harry, then threw her arms around his neck as her head, much as Lilith’s had hours earlier, fell into his shoulder. “He… he loved to fly, or kick around on the pitch. He was smart, but he just loved to move . Made Mum dance with him a lot, even if- if she wasn’t in the mood. And it always made her smile. Me, too.”
“Hm,” Harry sounded, hoping it would encourage her to listen. Almost without thinking about it, he started to sway slowly from side to side, too. He was not much of a dancer, but it could at least do that, spinning in slow circles.
“He… was always fair. Strict when he had to be- mostly ‘cause Mum made him with this little glare she did just for him, and it always made me laugh as a girl how he’d suddenly sound so… so contrite, when I knew the minute Mum turned her back he’d be giving us a thumbs-up while he stuck his tongue out at her.”
Harry chuckled as he continued to slowly sway with Katie, “He sounds like a good man. A good dad.”
“He was the best,” Katie cried, “I’m going… I’m going to miss him. So, so much.”
“You’ll see him again, though, one day,” Harry promised her quietly. “Dumbledore always said those we love never really leave us. And I believe it, more than anything else he ever taught me. I know we’ll see them again. We all will, everyone we’ve ever lost, and many more we didn’t even have a chance to know. They’re waiting for our time to be done, waiting patiently… they don’t mourn dying. That’s just for the living to do.”
“I sup- suppose,” Katie hiccuped, “I… thank you, Harry. I didn’t… I didn’t know I needed to hear that, but I did. I didn’t know I needed… to talk about my Dad. But I did.”
“Any time you want, Katie,” he promised her, “We’re all here for you. You are not alone, and you never will be, not really.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, before she lay her head down the rest of the way on his shoulder, and began to cry.
For perhaps the first time, Harry did not feel uncomfortable with a girl crying around, even on, him. Instead, he felt like, for once, he was really, truly, able to help.
Hermione poked her head into her parent’s borrowed room at Harry’s house after her father had replied with a, “Come in.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Daniel Granger replied as he looked up from one of his science fiction novels, a hard cover that she’d specifically added to Harry’s library for her father’s enjoyment. He sat below the window, which was open to let in a bit of warm early summer air that smelled faintly of lilac and honeysuckle. “How’re you?”
The witch shrugged, “Tired… it’s been a long day. We got Katie packed up, but she’s still going to stay at the Weasley's, at least for a few weeks. She… well, I get the impression she’s worried about moving in with Harry too early. Which I suppose makes sense, but she’s one of his earliest friends, so it isn’t like they don’t know each other. Sorry… I didn’t come to talk about them.”
Her father sat down his book after throwing a bookmark into it, and gestured to the chair opposite the table below the window, where a tea service sat, still steaming thanks to the built-in warming charms. “Tea? It’s black tea from Japan, according to that Dobby chap. Says it’s good to help with falling and staying asleep.”
She frowned as she sat down, “Have you been having trouble with that? I used to but… well, since we got here… Or really since I started having, um, company at night, it’s largely gone away.”
The older man frowned, “Yes… I don’t need to be reminded of that, thanks, but… I’m glad it’s helping, at least. I know you’ve struggled with nightmares since you first came home from Hogwarts. They’ve only gotten worse, in the few nights you’ve been willing to even sleep at home.”
“Yes,” Hermione nodded, meeting her father’s gaze carefully, “And now I’ve been able to tell you and Mum why those nightmares started. That’s helped in itself, believe me. But yes… sleeping in the bed with someone I trust does help, and even more.”
He nodded then, “Your mother and I have both noticed, you know. She used to be quite worried about it, and I’ve got to admit, I was for a while, too. I…” He sighed deeply, then reached out to take her hand in his larger ones, “We were both worried that you’d… suffer a nervous break, or something, due to the stress you kept bottled up. As your father, of course, I firmly believe that you’re still my innocent little girl, and you always will be.”
Hermione blushed, and felt herself forced to look away, especially given her recent predilections and thoughts regarding the very person she was talking to.
“However,” her father continued, “I also consider myself a realist, and I am aware- painfully aware, sometimes, but aware- that you and Harry are very much in love. It hasn’t escaped our notice that Ron is less and less often the topic of your conversation, either, and that when he visits you spend time with him, but you are no longer quite as, well, attached at the hip, as you once would’ve been.”
“No, Daddy,” Hermione whispered, surprised at how wistful just hearing that out loud made her feel. “I love Ron, but… I’m not in love with him. Not anymore. I think I was, once.”
Daniel nodded, “That happens. It’s pretty rare for people even my age to stay in love with the same person without working on maintaining and even building that love. In younger folks like yourselves, it’s even less common.”
Hermione snorted dryly, “You make it sound like you’re ancient, Daddy.”
“Well, I am , compared to you,” he laughed, “I’m in my mid-forties, you know.”
“You aren’t old, Daddy,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes, “And even if you’re starting to get a little gray, it just makes you look more… distinguished. Handsome, even.”
“Distinguished,” he mirrored his daughter’s snort, only louder, “that does make me sound old. ‘Here comes Mr. Granger, Dentist… my, he looks so distinguished! What a gentleman.’ Hah… Thanks, dearest. Really.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” Hermione sniffed, if only to hide her blush. She hadn’t intended to admit she thought her father was handsome. He was, of course, and if asked she’d say so. But this was unsolicited! She couldn’t just reveal to her father that… that she thought he was attractive, and- and attract ed . That was…
You are, though, a traitorous voice inside Hermione’s head that sounded far too much like Harry when he was at his most perverted said. You already shagged him once, and you’ve been dying to do it again, haven’t you? This might be your chance… you already know about Aunt Jo, and you know he wants Mum to shag Harry…
But that’s Mum and Harry! I’m his daughter !
… Isn’t it kinky? It’s not like he can knock you up… unless you both wanted it, of course. Do you…? Have another sister-daughter yourself…?
Hermione shivered. No, she told herself firmly, and actually meant it, mostly. The… the shagging, I- I can admit to that. But I don’t want a… a mutant baby. I only ever wanted Ron’s and Harry’s, and even Ron’s faded, like Daddy said.
Alright, then, Harry’s voice chuckled just like he did, which sent a wash of heat down through her body from her neck to her deepest parts, then go get that shag… if you’ve the bravery. You are a Gryffindor, aren’t you?
Hermione swallowed. Her father looked over at her, concerned. “You alright, sweetheart? You’ve been acting strangely since you came in.”
Another swallow, this time to clear the lump in her throat that had sprouted up in the last quarter-second. “You know I know about Aunt Jo,” Hermione began, more to buy her time than to remind her too-smart father of the facts, “And we both know… you enjoy sharing Mum, and want to share her with- with Harry.”
Her father nodded, frowning, “I… hadn’t discussed it with you, and didn’t know your mother had, but… yes, that’s my understanding of her current wants.”
Hermione nodded, “And I know you’ve never been outside your marriage aside from Lilith, that day Harry came to visit.”
Again, her father nodded, and the frown deepened. The hand covering hers almost withdrew, she felt it jerk away, but instead it tightened slightly and remained in place. “Yes… I remember. I remember thinking it was a dream, at first, until your mother and I talked about our recent fantasies and realized they were anything but just that.”
“Have you ever… considered it? Being with someone else?”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable having this conversation with you, Hermione,” her father replied quietly, “I… of course I’ve thought about it, but I never have. Your mother and I both prefer that she’s the one who goes elsewhere. And after Josephine and I broke up, even we’ve never been together.”
Hermione nodded, “So… you’ve been faithful to Mum. Again, aside from Lilith. Or, I should say, you’ve never shagged anyone outside of Mum and Lilith, either with or without Mum’s permission, which she probably would grant, but hasn’t ever needed to. Is that… accurate?”
Daniel Granger’s frown faded slowly into a look of confusion, “Yes, I suppose it is, but I don’t see why-”
“It isn’t true, though, Daddy,” Hermione whispered.
“What… what do you mean?” he asked, his face growing pale.
“In… in Nice… you went to the bar, on the second to last night there. Mum wasn’t feeling well, too tired. Do you remember?”
One more nod.
“You… came back to the hotel pretty drunk, and she was quiet, but… receptive. Yes?”
“My God,” he whispered.
“That wasn’t Mum, Daddy…”
Harry, upon finding out he was going to be a father, had maintained consciousness that morning for sixty-nine seconds.
Daniel Granger, upon receiving the news he just had, lasted eighteen. Coincidentally, his daughter’s current age.