A Godfather's Promise

“Harry Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XX: Secrets of the Heart

Even though Harry knew this day would come, he still couldn’t stop the empty feeling that settled in his heart as he hugged Fleur before she entered the Beauxbatons carriage. He knew it was not forever, but it was enough time that it would feel like forever. After spending the majority of the year together, the thought of being without Fleur was almost impossible for him to bear.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said as they walked towards the carriage. Already, he saw most of the students flocking inside, almost suppressing a laugh at the comical sight of dozens of witches entering one after the other at a carriage that, to the naked eye, couldn’t hold more than six people at most.

Fleur’s soft hand caressed his cheek. “I will be back before you know eet, mon chéri. Just a few weeks in France to visit Grand-maman. She will be so ‘appy when I tell ‘er about you!”

Harry nodded with a strained smile. “I’m still going to miss you, beautiful. It’s going to be hard to sleep on my own again.”

She giggled and reached in for a deep kiss. “And I will miss you as well. Not even ze Marseille sun will give me ze same warmth as you.” Her hand trailed downward, stopping just below his waist. “And I will miss our games, and my collar, and ze bondage, and ze latex, and your cock… by Aphrodite, I will miss your cock! Even ze spankings!”

A short laugh erupted from Harry. “When we’re back together, we can do all of those fun things again… and there’s nothing stopping you from wearing latex in France.”

“Oui, oui, but eet’s not ze same wizzout you,” sighed Fleur, looking back towards the carriage, where Madame Maxime was looking around impatiently. “Looks like eet’s time to leave.” She gave him one final kiss, a hug, and then giggled into his ear. “I left somezing for you. ‘Ave fun until I return, mon amour.” Then, she was gone.

Harry stood in place as she hurried to the carriage, entered, and was taken away from him by the winged horses rising towards the sky until they were only a small dot in a sea of blue and white. He waited until he could no longer see anything, and even then, stood looking at the south, fantasizing about Fleur flying back to him.

‘Cheer up, Potter. You’ll see her again in less than a month.’ Ignoring the chatter of the other students, he walked back to his room, and as soon as he opened the door, Harry found Fleur’s gift.

Luna was kneeling at the foot of the bed, hands behind her back and eyes set on the ground in front of her. Of clothes, there were none to speak of, save for her black leather collar. She greeted him with, “Good afternoon, Master.”

“Hello, Luna,” responded Harry, taking off his robes. “Did Fleur tell you to come?”

“Yes, Master. Mistress Fleur told me to be at your disposal while she is gone.” Her voice told him she wanted to do something, but would not do it until he told her to.

Pondering what to do, Harry tried to think about what Luna liked. He knew she liked feet - Fleur’s feet, at least. He imagined his own were not as pretty as Fleur’s. She also was fond of bondage, the stricter the better. Being bound for hours on end in the leather sleeping back had become an almost daily routine for her. She also liked latex, but he wondered how much that was influenced by Fleur’s latex addiction. What he knew she definitely liked to do with him is give him blowjobs, though right now he wasn’t really feeling like it. He wanted something more hands-on.

“What do you want to do?” he finally asked after trying to think of something to do that didn’t involve locking her entire body in leather.

Luna smiled dreamily, not moving a single inch from her posture. “I’m your object, Master. Objects don’t decide what to do. I will do whatever you want me to do and be happy about it.”

Harry wanted to protest that she should value herself more until he realized this was what turned her on. “An object? That’s what you want to be? Something for me to use for my own pleasure?” Luna nodded eagerly. “And when I’m done with you, I clean you and store you away until I use you again?”

“Yes, Master!” she chirped.

“Just remember that you can always stop if you’re truly uncomfortable,” reminded Harry as he pulled out the chest from under the bed. Fleur had taken most of her latex clothes, but left the collar. Running his hands over various implements, Harry grabbed several coils of soft white rope. “Alright, we’re going to do some rope bondage. Go and kneel on the bed.”

Using rope had been very intimidating at the start. Fleur had thankfully laughed off most of his early mistakes and now the only difference with Luna was the smaller body.

He started by surrounding the top and bottom of her breasts. Smaller than Fleur’s, they fit Luna’s petite body perfectly. Her nipples had a redder tone compared to Fleur’s pale color, and when he touched them they were stiff. Luna moaned appreciatively, but he stopped there. He could have more fun with them once she was properly bound.

Her breasts were soon enhanced by the rope when he tied the knots behind her back. Seeing that he still had some left, he wrapped more of it around her waist like a white belt, then used the last remaining length to pull it between her legs, cleaving her most sensitive part.

“Thank you, Master!” she squealed, breathing hard.

Harry smirked. “We’re just getting started.” While he went for more rope, he saw Luna discreetly tugging at the rope, stimulating her pussy. He quickly grabbed her wrists and gave her a stern look. “Luna,” he warned.

She looked down. “Sorry Master. I promise I wasn’t going to orgasm.”

“I know, little moon, but remember that you’re an object.” He pulled her hands behind her and used the next bundle of rope to start tying them. “Objects do not touch themselves.”

Tying hands was not something new, what was new was what he decided to use with the remaining rope. Grabbing both of her elbows, he joined them together slowly. “Does this hurt?”

“No, Master.”

Harry experimented a little bit more, arching her arms, bending her back, and splitting her legs. “You’re a flexible girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master. Do you like that?”

He chuckled. “I like that very much, Luna. From the looks of it, you’re even more flexible than Fleur. That means I can do a lot more things with you.” Grabbing the rope, he fastened both her forearms and her elbows together. Once the knot was secured, he watched carefully to see if there was anything that might indicate that her blood flow was being cut off.

Once he was satisfied that Luna was not in danger, he continued. He used another length of rope to connect her arms with the rest of the harness. Soon, both her arms were fixed together, and glued to the rest of her body.

“Well, that’s the upper half taken care of,” said Harry as his hands searched for even more rope. “Now let’s see about your legs.”

Harry started with her thighs and worked his way down, twice around her thighs, above and below her knees, and finishing with her ankles. As he finished tying the final knot, he rolled her on her stomach, took hold of both her feet, and raised them to his face. They were small, perfectly fitting to her height, and completely unblemished. Before Fleur, Luna didn’t care much for her appearance, except for her feet. Always her feet. With a smirk, he gently dragged his fingernail from her heel all the way to her toes.

“Eeek!” Luna jumped at first and instinctively tried to pull away her feet but he held on and continued his teasing. Soon, she settled for loud giggles and squirming. Her laugh made him smile and forget about Fleur’s absence.

He chuckled, only stopping to switch to her other foot. “My, my, Luna. You’re very sensitive here, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Ma-Master!” gasped Luna between laughs.

Harry stopped after a few minutes to let her catch her breath. He watched her scrunch and wiggle her small toes. Without thinking, he opened his mouth, pulled her feet towards him and softly bit into her big toe.

Luna gasped softly and stopped moving, once again breathing hard, but this time not from the shortness of breath.

Dragging his teeth across her sole, Harry grabbed another coil of rope and gave her a light spank. “I’m not done yet, little moon.”

He passed the rope around the knot between her ankles, then pulled her legs towards the rest of her body, securing the other length of the rope to the knot that bound her elbows together. The result was a stringent hogtie.

Just one final thing was left.

Grabbing his wand, Harry transfigured a small goblet into a metal hook. Using a Sticking Charm, he glued it to the ceiling, right above his favorite seat. Then, Harry passed the longest strand of rope in his collection and pulled with his entire body, testing that the hook was steady and would not fall. Once he was satisfied, he returned for Luna.

“Are you ready to fly, little moon?”

“Yes, Master!” chirped Luna with a playful struggle.

He passed the long rope around her chest harness and her feet so that one part of her body didn’t have to handle the strain alone. Slowly, he began to pull the rope, and Luna rose towards the ceiling. Adjusting the height, he finally settled her so that her face met his when he took his seat.

Harry took a moment to smile and watch Luna twirl gleefully in her bondage, raising a hand to either push her or spin her, yet always keeping his other hand firmly around his wand, just in case anything went wrong. Finally, he stopped her as she was facing him.

“Luna,” he said seriously. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Fleur. You know what is happening. You know that Voldemort is back. He is after me, and the people that are close to me. Do you still –“

“I am not leaving,” Luna said firmly. “Never ever. Not for all the pudding in the world. I am your object, Master, not anybody else’s. Nobody else owns me aside from you and Mistress Fleur. I don’t ever want to be alone again.” Her eyes turned watery. “Please don’t throw your object away, Master.”

Harry’s fingers quickly caressed her soft blonde tresses and pulled her head into a kiss. “I won’t. You are mine, Luna. I will never throw you away.”

“Thank you, Master.”

After Luna said her words, Harry grabbed a black ballgag and inserted it into her mouth, followed by a blindfold. Smirking, he got up, standing behind her hogtied form and placed his hands back on her feet.

“I hope you’re not tired yet.” His fingernails slowly traced her arches again. “Because I’m not done with you just yet.”

He continued to play with her until darkness fell. Harry was amazed at Luna’s ability to remain stringently bound in demanding positions for hours on end, seemingly without any discomfort or damage. The next day, he ordered her to do a series of exercises to see how flexible she truly was and concluded that she was capable of giving a professional contortionist a run for her money.

During the last week of school, Harry understood how different Luna could be from Fleur. While Fleur loved to surrender, she liked to retain control of some things. Luna gave up all of it. She was completely and utterly subservient to him. Every morning, she would be naked until he picked out her clothes. She even asked what color of makeup and accessories she should wear for the day. If she woke up earlier than him, Luna would kneel beside his bed with her hands behind her back in silence until he woke up and gave her the first orders of the day. Fleur had never done that. Also, unlike Fleur, Luna would follow every command, literally every one of them, without a single complaint, and would not open her mouth up until he “gave her permission to speak'' first. Unless, of course, it was a passing comment about Nargles, Blibbering Humdingers, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, or pudding.

Harry was surprised at how intimidated he was at first. He was used to Fleur deciding many things for herself outside of their sessions. However, after a few days of getting used to it, he began to truly enjoy having such complete control over a person that trusted him.

Luna was not like Fleur, but Harry realized that she didn’t have to be. Fleur was her own person, with her own ideas on submission. Luna was simply different, and there was nothing wrong with that. He still enjoyed and missed Fleur’s brattier nature just as much, even as he began to enjoy Luna’s will to surrender all her independence. Different people, different submissives, both equally beautiful in their own way.

He barely talked to anybody else, and when the last day came, he boarded the Express together with her.

“This one,” said Harry, pointing to the last compartment where other students would rarely pass through. He stashed the trunk above him and sat on the cushioned seat. Luna followed his movements, only instead of sitting on the cushioned seat, she knelt beside him, hands behind her back and looking at the ground.

“At ease,” ordered Harry. Luna relaxed her posture, placing her hands on her thighs and raising her gaze to see him.

Harry patted her head and smirked. “You’re coming with me and Fleur later in the summer, right?”

Luna nodded. “Yes, Master. I’m certain Daddy will let me. I’ll tell him that I’m going hunting for Blibbering Humdingers if he disagrees.”

“Good girl.”

His ears caught footsteps coming towards his compartment. He didn’t know who it was, only that it sounded frantic. Quickly, he grabbed Luna’s arm and pulled her to sit at his side. She looked like she wanted to protest until Harry gave her a serious look.

“Act natural. You are allowed to speak and voice your opinions. That’s my order for whenever we’re in public. You will refer to me as Harry, not Master. Am I clear?”

Luna gave a single nod. “Yes, Master.”

The door slid open to reveal Hermione. Her hair was messier than usual and she had dark bags under her eyes. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” She breathed in relief and then gave him a stern look. “You shouldn’t hide from the rest of the students, Harry. If You-Know-Who comes, nobody might hear you!” She then looked at his companion. “Oh… hello, Luna.”

Harry smirked. “’Mione. If Voldemort really came here, then this would be the last place he’d look. Besides, it’s probably for the best if you’re not with me. He’s after me, not you.”

Hermione sighed and sat opposite to him. Crookshanks then scurried in and sat on her lap. “I’m on your side, Harry. You know that. And both Sirius and Tonks asked me to look after you.”

“I’m a big boy, ‘Mione,” sighed Harry.

“A very big boy,” added Luna.

Hermione exhaled loudly. “Will you not take this seriously?!”

“I am taking it seriously, ‘Mione. But I refuse to spend every waking moment living in fear. He’s weak right now and the DMLE has added Aurors to the express. We’ll be fine for a while.”

She closed her eyes. “I know, Harry, just… try to be careful, alright?”

He nodded. “Careful as can be. You’ll keep me out of trouble. You always have.”

Her smile was tired. “I always have,” she agreed.

More footsteps came their way. Hermione jumped and fiddled inside her robes for her wand. Harry, despite not being as hasty, also felt for his. The door clicked and it swiftly slid open.

On the other side was not Voldemort or one of his minions, not even Malfoy or the other Death Eater Youth… it was the ever-sour faced Daphne Greengrass.

“Potter… Granger… Lovegood,” she drawled with a sneer. “I see that you have invaded my favorite compartment. Regrettable.” Two more figures peered behind Daphne’s shoulder. Crimson hair gave away the identity of the first one. The other he did not recognize, but shared a physical resemblance to Daphne.

“Hey Daph, Sue. Well, we can always share, can’t we?” responded Harry. “Wouldn’t want you to suffer through the entire ride without your precious compartment.”

“The reason it’s so precious, Potter, is that there usually aren’t people here to irk me with their half-witted opinions.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, we do have our opinions. Calling them half-witted is a little rude, don’t you think?”

Before Daphne could respond, the sound of the carriage door opened and the recognizable pompous gloating of Malfoy and the brutish grunts of his two slow-minded underlings.

“Get in,” said Harry. Daphne opened her mouth to argue, while at the same time sending an annoyed glance to where the voices were coming from, and a reassuring one to Susan and the other witch. “Now,” he commanded forcefully. All three of them quickly entered. He looked at Hermione and nodded.

Hermione took out her wand and confidently cast a Notice-Me-Not charm just in time for Malfoy’s strutting to reach the compartment door.

“Uhh… looks like there’s nothing here, Draco,” mumbled Crabbe. Or was it Goyle?

“Silence!” Malfoy shrieked, followed by more strutting. “You two go back to the first cart and search for Greengrass. If you find her, bring her to me.” He continued to pace back and forth, opening compartment doors, until, with a growl, he stomped out of the carriage and shut the door behind him.

Sighs of relief filled the compartment as Malfoy left. Harry finally paid attention to the new occupants.

“You’re Harry Potter!” noted the younger witch, holding out her hand. “I’m Astoria. Astoria Greengrass.” Daphne’s little sister? The resemblance was uncanny. “Daphne talks a lot about you.”

Harry grinned and sent Daphne an amused look. “Does she now?”

Daphne scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I do not!”

“Well, you talk about him more than any other wizard, at least,” retorted Astoria, and immediately shrank from the glare Daphne gave her.

“Fascinating,” said Harry. “I mean, I always knew you cared Daph, but still, I can’t help but be flattered.”

“Don’t think about it too hard, Potter. And refer to me as ‘Greengrass’. I’m not your pet French witch,” snapped Daphne, taking a few breaths. “You’ve made it just a little hard not to talk about you. I do not envy you. Such a large target –.”

“Daphne,” whispered Susan, and just like that, Daphne went quiet.

“Thank you, Sue,” said Hermione, petting Crookshanks while pulling out one of her books.

Harry, however, was not done talking with Daphne. “You do bring up a point, though. I do have a large target painted on my back. Old times are going to return. At first, the war started between extremists, but as it went on, everyone had to pick a side. The question is, what side are you on?”

Daphne straightened her back and gave him a cold look. “House Greengrass, blood of Morgana, does not pick a side. We make our own,” she announced proudly.

An uncomfortable silence settled on the cart while Harry and Daphne stared at each other intently, neither willing to look away. It was only broken by Susan raising her voice.

“Umm… well, House Bones is with you Harry… for what it’s worth.”

Harry smiled at Susan and nodded appreciatively. “It’s worth more than you think, Sue.”

Suddenly, Crookshanks escaped Hermione’s hold and jumped towards Susan. The Hufflepuff squeaked as the ball of fur climbed atop her generous breasts and nestled himself comfortably.

Susan immediately went as red as her hair and Hermione started sputtering apologies while trying to order Crookshanks down, eventually resorting to grabbing him, only for him to escape again and climb back up. All the while, Luna watched with a smile.

“That’s a smart cat,” she said dreamily.

Hermione finally managed to control Crookshanks and get him back on her lap, still pleading apologies to still flustered Susan.

“An animal as savage as its owner,” declared Daphne as she got up. “Well, since that upstart ferret is gone, there’s no need for us to remain here. Astoria! Susan!” She stood up and left with her head held proudly. Astoria followed her after giving a smile and a wave to Harry. Susan sent conflicted looks at both Daphne and Harry, but also left after apologizing to Harry.

Now there were only Hermione and Luna in the compartment with him, until the brown-haired Gryffindor also gathered her things. “Sorry, I need to go and see Padma for a book she lent me. Are you sure you will be alright?”

“Like I said, ‘Mione. I can take care of myself. Have fun.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Hermione, Luna promptly slid off her seat and knelt on the floor again. Harry grabbed his wand and quietly cast another Notice-Me-Not charm for good measure.

Luna took the charm as her cue to remove all of her clothing, and she quickly fished into her trunk to pull out the collar and cuffs for her wrists and ankles. Harry noticed that despite her silence, she kept stealing glances between his legs.

Knowing that she would not act unless ordered to, Harry petted Luna’s hair. “I’m a little stressed out right now, little moon. Can you help me?”

Eagerly, Luna nodded and undid the zipper, barely taking a moment to admire his erect cock before opening her mouth and swallowing. Harry closed his eyes and relaxed. Waking up to a blowjob was something he’d gotten used to by now. He had half a mind to pack Luna into his suitcase and take her home just to help him deal with the stress.

‘Don’t tell her that. She’ll probably agree to it!’ He chuckled and caressed her hair. Who knew the trip back from Hogwarts could be so fun?

“Welcome home, Missy Susan,” squeaked Meepy, the house elf that had been in the Bones family since before Susan had been born. Even as a child, Meepy and the other elves had been mostly responsible for raising her, especially considering how busy her Aunt Amelia usually was.

Susan smiled. “Thank you, Meepy,” she said as the house elf grabbed her trunk and disappeared to take it to her room. She fixed her gaze on the empty main hall of the manor, her sigh echoing across the massive, lonely ancestral home of the Bones family.

The Bones family hadn’t always lived in the manor. Construction of it had started only in the eighteenth century, and yet it was built on the same land near the city of York that Susan’s family had bloodily taken by right of conquest more than a thousand years ago. The realm had not been called England then, but Northumbria, and legend had it that Ivar the Boneless had rewarded them with the land after her ancestor, Ulf the Cruel, had presented his king with a hundred skulls of their Saxon enemies.

It was rare that Susan told her family’s history to anyone, mainly because she’d grown annoyed at how many laughed at the idea that she was descended from a line of axe-wielding barbarians that saw little difference between kidnapping a woman and marrying her, and, in her family’s case, offered them bones as jewelry.

Nowadays, the Bones family had little in common with such a history, at least at first glance. Her ancestors hadn’t put much thought into preserving things, with the exception of Ulf’s axe, and a massive tapestryproudly displayed in the dining room that depicted men in longships raiding, pillaging, raping, and slaughtering. At the center, Ulf gleefully executed some poor Saxon man by blood eagle. Susan’s forefathers apparently thought it was in good taste for their guests to see it while eating supper.

Of course, there was also the sigil: a grey wolf, doubtless taken from Ulf’s name, laying atop a mountain of bones, eyeing the watcher menacingly as if eager to add to his collection.

She had learned all of that thanks to Meepy’s lessons. Of the rest of her family, Susan knew very little. Aunt Amelia never told her much, even in the rare times she was at home, aside from the fact that every Bones was a brave and fierce fighter. It was a sore subject.

Susan’s silent laugh boomed across the empty hall. Ulf’s blood must have passed her by. Even from a very young age, Susan could not stomach violence.

Aunt Amelia never said anything. The one time that Susan had tearfully asked if she was a stain on the family, Aunt Amelia had held her close and assured her that she was not. And yet Susan still couldn’t gather the courage to visit the family gallery and face her own ancestors for shame of being considered a weakling, a disappointment, a disgrace to the name of Bones.

Bones women were not meant to enjoy cooking. Bones women were not meant to nurse wounded animals back to health instead of finishing them off and taking them home for supper. Bones women were not meant to like romantic poems and tales of love. Yet that was what Susan wanted in her heart of hearts.

Bones women were supposed to be as rough as the men, if not rougher. Sometimes, Susan overheard her Auror bodyguards talk about her, and how different she was from Amelia Bones. Aunt Amelia was the perfect embodiment of her house. Never faltering; always strong. With a hundred spells ready to destroy an opponent.

That was not Susan.

“Susan?” called an echoing voice. Susan knew the voice. Aside from the elves, it was the only one that inhabited Bones Manor.

“Auntie?”

It was Amelia Bones, alright. With her square-jaw that only relaxed in Susan’s presence, and copper hair that turned greyer with every stressful day. She looked tired, but was smiling happily  at her niece. Susan ran towards her with a tight hug.

“Are you alright, Susan? Did anything happen at school?”

Susan shook her head. “Nothing, Auntie. It was Harry and Fleur who were in danger, not me.”

“Thank Merlin. Edgar would never forgive –“ She stopped herself and straightened back to her militaristic posture. “Susan. I believe it’s best for you to be transferred. We have that land in Denmark, and we can see about you starting in Beauxbatons. I can contact Madam Maxime.”

“Auntie?” The thought of being separated from Hogwarts sent a stab at her heart. To be away from Hannah and her friends? Away from Daphne? “Y-You can’t, Auntie! Please!”

“Listen to me, Susan. It will be dangerous. The Dark Lord has returned and he will come after our family. I will stand and fight, but you cannot be put in danger.”

“B-But… Auntie…” Susan blabbered; her heart was thumping hard. “Let me stay. I will stand alongside you. I promised Harry I would.”

Amelia sighed and placed her hands on Susan’s shoulders. “Susan… you are the future of our family. I promised your father that I would never let any harm come to you. You can never be allowed to fall into danger.”

“Auntie… I know I’m not strong like you, but please let me be brave. I want to be brave. Don’t send me away!” she begged.

Amelia closed her eyes. “I… have to think. But not today. The Ministry is in chaos and Fudge is being useless. It falls to the DMLE to maintain order now. Please stay here, Susan. The wards will protect you for now. The Dark Lord is still not at full strength, and most of his allies are in Azkaban.” After a last hug, she raised her wand in the air. “We’ll talk later. I’ll send Aurors to watch out for you.” With a loud pop, her Aunt was gone

A sob went unheard in the empty manor. Susan paced to the window, towards the horizon, towards the south where her lover lay.

Daphne breathed deeply as she exited the carriage, handing her trunk to a nearby butler. No, not an elf, a butler. Elves were too pedestrian, according to Cygnus Greengrass. Every house had elves, so he made it a point to only hire wizards and witches as servants. He had more than enough money to pay for such a luxury. Besides, Cygnus couldn’t stand elvish gibberish.

“Greengrass Manor welcomes you back, Lady Daphne, Lady Astoria,” said the butler. Daphne couldn’t be bothered to remember his name. “I have been told to inform you that supper will be served in three hours’ time. Foie gras with a side of lobster, topped with black truffles. If you are hungry now, we can send a snack of Iberico ham and caviar.”

“You have my gratitude,” responded Daphne with no emotion. “Is my mother home?”

The butler bowed. “Lady Eleanor rests in her solar. She has been feeling a little down today. Your presence should improve her health.”

“I see.” Daphne ignored everything else, as well as the many servants that welcomed her home. The one thing she couldn’t ignore were the two black-haired figures that ran for her legs.

“Daphne!” they both cheered and for once, Daphne allowed herself a smile.

“Charlotte, Elizabeth,” Daphne greeted her little sisters. They were twins, identical in every way. Much like Astoria and herself, they had inherited Cygnus’ dark hair and violet eyes, and would more than likely inherit his height as well.

“How are you, Daphne? How was it at Hogwarts? Did you have fun? Did you learn new spells? Did you see the Tournament?” Question after question burst from the excited twins as they tugged and jumped around Daphne.

She raised her hands to calm them down. “Later. I have to see mother.”

The twins pouted and whined, until they saw Astoria walk inside and ran to her to tug at her dress just as they’d done to Daphne. Astoria, all boasts and smiles, was more than willing to entertain them.

Daphne found her mother sitting on the terrace outside her solar. Eleanor Greengrass looked thin and pale. The birth of the twins had been hard on her. The medics in St. Mungo’s had said that if she was careful with her body, she would live a long and prosperous life, but another pregnancy would be fatal to her health. She sat on her cushioned seat, overlooking the servants in the garden, sipping on hot tea.

“Mother?”

Eleanor turned and gave her a warm, elegant smile. “Daphne. It brightens my heart to see you, daughter.”

Daphne sat next to her mother and grabbed her hand. “Is everything alright, mother?”

“Oh, I’m quite well, daughter. The healers make too much of a fuss – I’m still as healthy as I’ve ever been!” Her laugh was as elegantly lively as Daphne remembered when she was a child.

“You mustn’t strain yourself,” warned Daphne. A comfortable silence settled between the two as they watched the lavish garden, the best in all of Colchester. “Mother, I have been thinking. It would perhaps be best if you, the twins, and Astoria left for the summer home in Spain for a few years. Or perhaps the villa in Italy?”

Eleanor scoffed. “Nonsense, dear daughter.”

“But, mother...”

“Daphne, I have been in this manor since Cygnus recovered it from those dreadful Notts. I’ve been here to help him rebuild his family’s honor from the ashes it had become. Do you think I will leave now just because of an ill-bred Dark Lord that was defeated by a toddler? We’ve dealt with this rabble before, daughter. Your father and I weathered the storm the first time, and we will weather it again. I trust your father to guide us, and you should do so as well.”

Daphne narrowed his eyes. “He doesn't deserve you,” she whispered, quietly enough for her mother not to hear it. “What will be expected of me to help the family ‘weather the storm’, mother? Am I to be married to a Death Eater while Astoria is given to Longbottom? Or will it be the other way around?”

“Hah! Cygnus would never give you to a Death Eater, nor Astoria, or any of his daughters. No upstart family of feckless servants deserves a daughter of Greengrass. Malfoy, Nott, Goyle, Crabbe, Flint… heh! Your father loves you too much to saddle you with such a paltry lot.”

“Father only cares about what I can do for the family, mother. My marriage serves only to give him a grandson that can inherit, and perhaps more allies for his political ambitions. I am worth nothing else to him.”

Eleanor pursed her lips and placed her hand on Daphne’s cheek. “Everything Cygnus has done; he’s done for his family. For me, for you, and your sisters. Give him a chance, Daphne. Try to understand him.”

Daphne stood up swiftly. “Well, perhaps if he was here more often I would.” Without another word, she stormed out of her mother’s solar, pacing through the halls, ignoring the servants that bowed to her, heading towards her room.

Marriage was a dire inevitability constantly looming over Daphne’s head. She had known it since her mother’s physical decline after the twins’ birth. With no male heirs and no siblings to pass the lordship to, Cygnus Greengrass would have to make due with an heir borne from one of his daughters.

‘He should just divorce mother and get a wife that will give him sons.’ Daphne never knew why Eleanor Greengrass was so devoted to her husband. She never saw him taking care of her, and they were always so bloody formal when he came home in the dead of night. Yet never once had the thought been considered by either of her parents.

A loveless marriage was what awaited her. Being the eldest, she could transfer the burden of being a consort to one of her younger sisters. She would not do it. Never. She would not let Astoria, Elizabeth or Charlotte have to suffer for her father’s ambitions. They would remain happy and innocent, as they should be. It would be on her and her alone to bear the burden. She knew how, she was good at it, even liked being the pureblood heiress, and was strong enough to do it…

And yet… she couldn’t help but wonder about the possibilities.

What if they knew? What if everyone knew? Would her hand still be worth so much? Perhaps she should tell everyone? No… better to show everyone. Bring Susan over, and kiss her in front of the entire staff, maybe even ride her face, or even better, have Susan ride her face!

‘Maybe I should do it just to see if that gets a reaction from father,’ Daphne thought viciously.

Maybe she should do it during one of her mother’s lavish balls? That’ll definitely get a reaction. Fantasies materialized in her mind. In the main hall with Susan… or Granger? Yes, that would definitely cause even more of a commotion. She would take turns eating them both out, her entire face stained with runny makeup from leftover juices, a far cry from the debutante the ball-goers thought her to be. Then, a spanking session as they berated her failures until her ass ended an angry red, screams for more and more, instead of the songs and pleasantries her parents expected. Would anyone want to marry Daphne Greengrass then?

Without thinking, one of her hands fished inside her dress and below her bra, where she felt her nipple, hard as a rock. With her thumb and forefinger, she pinched it roughly, letting out a moan at the wonderful pain. A familiar wetness started to gather between her legs. Daphne looked around her in case there were any onlookers, and then switched to her other nipple, this time using her sharp nails for even more delicious pain. When she finally reached her room and closed the door behind her, a gasp escaped her lips.

A full-length mirror made her image look back at her. Perfectly groomed hair, a dress worth more than most wizards made in a year, flawless pale skin, and subtle dark makeup.

With gritted teeth, Daphne knelt in front of her image, and pulled at her hair until it was wild. She jammed her fingers in her mouth and ran saliva all over them, then dragged the digits across her face, spoiling the makeup. Not satisfied, she gave herself a slap, moaning with both pain and pleasure at the sting. Tears ran down her eyelids, leaving a black trail.

This was not Daphne Greengrass anymore. This was just some whore.

She was completely drenched.

‘No.’ Daphne forced herself up, and grabbed her wand to fix everything back. Daphne Greengrass – daughter of Cygnus, blood of Morgana le Fay – stared back again. She could never be the woman she wanted to truly be, not if she wanted her sisters to stay the girls they were. Her face returned to her sneer, and she went back to her duties.

‘For my sisters… everything is for my sisters.’

It was always a unique experience when Hermione crossed the wall between the magical world and the muggle one. Everything seemed to change, and yet she still remained the same. She still liked reading, but Charms and Transfiguration books were swapped for physics and chemistry. Quills were replaced by ballpoint pens, carriages for cars, and chandeliers by lightbulbs.

Hermione slowly walked outside of the station and to a nearby coffeehouse where her parents always picked her up. Upon arrival, she frowned at the absence of her mother’s SUV. Her parents were never late. The darkening sky worsened her predicament, so she quietly entered.

Hermione didn’t consider herself a coffee person, and her parents only drank sugarless Earl Grey. Sitting in a coffeehouse without buying something would be quite rude, however, so Hermione ordered a warm latte. When she opened her wallet, she also realized just how empty her stomach was and all discipline was thrown out the window as she bought a large BLT. She had too much in her mind right now to care about her calorie intake.

As the hole in her stomach was slowly filled, Hermione allowed herself to breathe and think about everything. She laughed humorlessly. Where should she start? The return of Voldemort? Her friendships with Susan and Harry? Harry himself? Fire spread across her face as she thought of the last one.

Memories that Hermione tried to bury were rising back to haunt her. That damned spell had revealed more than she’d thought imaginable. What she had seen on Fleur showed so little and yet told so much about Harry.

‘How could that be Harry? How could he do that? Why? I thought he was a decent man. I thought he believed in equality and freedom.’ She drank from her coffee quickly, barely caring about the burning roof of her mouth. Deep in her thoughts, she barely noticed the familiar vehicle parking next to her seat’s window.

“Sorry for being late!” said a familiar voice.

Hermione almost expected to see her mother’s brown hair, instead, it was a pale, curly blonde. ‘I guess that explains the tardiness.’ “Evanna!” she exclaimed. “Wha – Where’s mother? I thought they were picking me up?”

Evanna grinned. “Come on, Hermione. Maybe a little something to say you missed me? ‘Oh, Evanna! I missed you, big sis. Thank you for picking me up!’” Laughing, she sat next to her and loudly called the waitress for the same thing Hermione was having. “Emily and George say they’re sorry but they were invited at the last minute to give a talk over at the Mayo clinic in the States. They’ll be gone for the next couple of weeks.”

Nodding, Hermione finished the last of her coffee. “I see.” Frankly, she didn’t know how to feel about it. Talking to her parents or having time for herself seemed to each have their own advantages and disadvantages.

“Aye, so that means it’s just you and me for a while. Oh, we’ll have all sorts of fun! We can watch movies, go to the pool, and since nobody is there to tell us about tooth decay, we can pig out as much as we want!”

Hermione sighed. “You know that the older sister is supposed to be the responsible one, right?”

With a chuckle, Evanna swirled her coffee. “The older sister is also supposed to be the one that tells her younger sister to relax and have fun. No offense, Hermione, but you look like you are carrying every single book of yours on your back.”

‘If only you knew.’ Hermione finished her meal, the sudden reminder of the challenges ahead made everything taste like dust.

Evanna paid the expenses and then it was to Emily Granger’s SUV. The tapping of the heavy rain was the only sound Hermione heard as the city turned into the suburbs.

Her home was in a gated community, painted white. Two stories high, and with a small backyard where Evanna liked to grow her garden and her father cooked on the grill for family and friends during weekends. The community held a pool, a small park, and even a fully stocked gym. Two blocks away from the gate was the nearest library, where Hermione had spent countless hours as a child. It reflected her parent’s upper-middle class income.

“Home sweet home,” announced Evanna, yet she kept on holding the keys. “I’m going to the market to buy everything for the weekend. Anything you need?”

“I’m fine,” said Hermione, already climbing the stairs.

A smile broke through Hermione’s exhaustion as she laid eyes on her room. It was not particularly furnished, but enough that she had all she needed. Her full-sized bed was settled in one corner next to the garden window, which let the sun’s light enter to illuminate a large desk, then there was the vanity Evanna ordered custom made for her, which Hermione didn’t use very much.

Mostly, there were books. Her walls were barely visible due to the rows upon rows of books, and even those were not enough to contain all of them. There were books on her desk and on the bedside table, and even under the bed itself. Half the closet was filled with books, and a couple stacks had to be placed on the rugged floor.

They were all the books she’d ever had, even as a child. Sometimes, Hermione had pondered if she should sell or give some away, but she never followed through. They were her books – she could never part with any of them.

Hermione fell on her bed, enjoying the silence while it lasted. Her thoughts were still a mess, however, and she stood up again to do something that would distract her. Homework, she thought. That was the first thing Hermione did every year when she returned home.

Slowly, she grabbed her parchments and decided to start with Snape’s Potions essay. The more convenient rolling pen on hand, Hermione wrote her name at the top left and got ready to begin. Minutes went by; the clock’s ticks were like thunder in the silent room. By the time an hour had passed, Hermione’s eyes still stared at the empty parchment paper.

With a growl, Hermione stood from her desk and fell back on her bed.

She couldn’t think of anything else at the moment but of Harry and Fleur. Why did Fleur want to be tied up like that? Wasn’t she the brightest witch in Beauxbatons? Wasn’t she an independent, modern woman from France? So why?

However, most of all, she couldn’t help but think of something else, closer to home. Something that she could now not disassociate with Harry and Fleur.

The basement.

Her parents were surprisingly lax with the rules and Evanna even more, but there was always one rule above all that Hermione was never to break.

Do not, under any circumstances, go to the basement.

It was a simple rule to follow when Hermione was younger. She had the whole house to herself, and if not, the nearby library. Why would she ever want to go down to some creepy basement? As she got older, curiosity began to eat at her, little by little. Sometimes, she woke up at night for a glass of water, or to go to the bathroom, and as she passed the stairs to the basement, muffled noises reached her ears. Striking noises, moaning, and even screaming.

As a young girl, Hermione thought this must be some sort of ghost that her parents had locked. As she got older, doubts began to spring in her mind, and she couldn’t help but connect the sounds to the absence of her parents and Evanna.

Yet she still followed the rules. Never, ever go down to the basement.

Now, the curiosity was not some little animal gnawing annoyingly at her, but a massive beast that devoured her thoughts. Hermione forgot about everything: Hogwarts, homework, the Dark Lord, even her books… everything except for that day with Harry and a tied Fleur, and that mysterious basement.

Swallowing hard, Hermione got up from her bed and opened the door. “Evanna?” she called out to no response, then checked the garage to see that the SUV was still gone.

Arming herself with all her Gryffindor courage, Hermione stared at the basement stairs, and began to walk down.

The door was imposingly black, made out of hardened wood. It was even more secure than the front door, with many locks to make sure no unwelcome guests were allowed inside.

There was only one way to open the door without a key... could she do it? It would be rule-breaking, plain and simple. Biting her lip, she lowered her wand. Hermione Granger would never break the rules! Never! Harry had told her that the repercussions of doing it at home were light, but she was supposed to be the responsible one, the one that followed protocols, the one that…

“Oh, will you get on with it!” she told herself and pointed the wand at the lock. “Alohomora!”

A series of clicks crashed against her ears, each a punch to her lungs. For a moment, she heard no sound but the thumping of her heart, until she finally drew breath and raised a trembling hand to the door handle.

The door opened to darkness. Childhood fears rose within Hermione of some unknown thing coming out of her closet to snatch her, yet this thing was no monster, only the unknown. With legs as heavy as lead, she walked inside the room and immediately searched the walls until she found a switch.

A flash of light blinded her eyes. For a moment, she debated whether or not she should open them. Unfortunately, she did.

It was a large room, even larger than the living room upstairs, it had to be to fit all the… equipment. Hermione’s brain went for the most harmless things first, such as the dark red walls, or the rich black wooden floor. Then, she looked to a large, king-sized bed, surrounded by four posts that had hooks embedded into it. The foot of the bed was actually an in-built stock like the type she’d seen at museums.

The other things… Hermione had a hard time processing. There was a contraption of sorts, shaped like a giant X, on each end was a metal chain connected to a leather manacle. Then there was something that looked suspiciously like a sawhorse, but cushioned with leather, with more cuffs attached to it. A rack was near another wall, padded with rubber. Many more contraptions were around, each so innocent looking at first glance, yet hiding some sinister motive. Like an imposing chair that on second glance had dozens of straps incorporated to bind the user from head to toe.

It was all positively medieval!

At the center of the room there was a black table and several seats, including a leather couch. Atop the table lay a large tome, looking suspiciously like a photo album.

Hermione slowly walked to it, wincing as every footstep crashed against the expensive floor. With shaky legs, she fell on the couch, taking a moment to feel its quality. It was authentic leather. How much did it cost? Shaking her head, Hermione grabbed the photo album and flipped it open to see what secrets it may reveal.

The first photograph said it all. She recognized her parents from a few years ago, George and Emily Granger were standing side by side, smiling. It was almost like any photo in the living room… almost.

Her father was not dressed in his usual suit and tie, nor the slacks and shirt he wore when he was at home. Instead, he wore black leather that covered his entire body. Next to him was Emily Granger, donning an imposing red rubber dress. Both of them held something in their hands, a leash connected to a chain, trailing below them… where Evanna knelt between the two, naked save for a metal collar.

‘Oh, Evanna! How could you?! Why?!’ Hermione had never felt a betrayal so crushing. Evanna, the smartest person she knew, the big sister who encouraged her studies, the young woman who had graduated top of her class and entered a highly respected job straight out of university… Evanna, the woman she admired more than anyone.

She flipped the page and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her mother was nude, sitting on a chair, eyes closed and mouth open. The other woman was facing Emily, only the back of her head visible, though the long blonde curls immediately identified her as Evanna, and her head was nestled between her mother’s…

Hermione snapped the book close, face burning red. A breath exploded from her closed mouth as she placed the book back atop the table. ‘Deviants! My father, my mother, Evanna… Harry… all of them! I’m surrounded by deviants!’

Setting the album down, Hermione walked to one of the cabinets and slowly opened it. It was filled with different devices, including crops, whips, floggers, paddles in one row, and an assortment of cuffs, shackles, chains, and ropes in another.

Different cabinets held different objects. She saw gags, blindfolds, sex toys, perverted costumes in rubber or leather, and even head-shaped hoods that would fit a person like a glove.

Daringly, Hermione grabbed a crop and slapped it against her palm, hissing slightly at the pain.

There was one cabinet that held an expensive wooden box. Gingerly, Hermione clicked it open to reveal a shiny steel collar, seemingly custom made, along with four cuffs to complete the set. Engraved on the collar was the word “Toy”, and the back was similarly inscribed with “Property of Master George and Mistress Emily.”

Evanna had not always been her big sister. Hermione first remembered her arriving when she was in college, studying finance. Hermione was around three years old at the time. She stayed with her parents until she graduated, taking care of Hermione and the house as a sort of payment, at least that’s what Evanna told her.

At one point, however, she graduated, and she moved from the house when she got a high-paying job at a multinational company. Hermione remembered crying, begging Evanna to stay with them. One year later, she got that wish. Evanna came back, having quit her job, and instead settled back with Hermione’s parents. Instead of a professional job, she took to writing and art. George and Emily Granger supported her fully, and couldn’t be happier with the decision.

It all made sense now.

But why? Why would Evanna Quill quit a job that millions would kill over just to return to being an unpaid housemaid? Why would she give up the opportunity of a lifetime just to be her parents’… servant? ‘Why? Why would you do this?’

She walked back to the armoire and looked at the expensive collar, her finger tracing the smooth edges, designed to not hurt the wearer. What power did this item hold over her intelligent, beautiful big sister? What spell did it hold to reduce a bright young woman to a kneeling girl, petted by her parents? Hermione thought of taking it, and seeing for herself, but stopped before she made that decision.

Doubtlessly, they would know if such a revered item was tampered with.

Instead, she felt for another collar, and found one made of leather, with several chrome studs as decoration. It looked like a dog collar, worn with time and use. It was obviously cheaper.

Hermione took her time looking at it. How could anyone even consider putting it on?! This was degrading! Dehumanizing! Actually securing this thing around her neck would be tantamount to giving up her dignity! There was no way in hell that she would ever –

‘Get on with it!’ screamed her thoughts.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione opened the collar and placed it around her neck, gasping softly as her skin touched the cold studs, and she already knew that prolonged use would slightly chafe her neck. As she suspected, cheap. More than likely kept for sentimental reasons.

Other than that, Hermione felt nothing. She looked at herself in the mirror, hoping it would trigger something aside from mild embarrassment. There was a ring at the front of the collar where one could attach a leash, but Hermione shook her head. No way!

There had to be something she was not getting. Something that made intelligent women like Evanna and Fleur subject themselves to this level of humiliation. Hermione looked around the room until her eyes settled on the cage. Curiosity was now overcoming embarrassment. She had to get to the bottom of this!

With her heart pumping, Hermione kicked off her shoes and got on her knees. In front of her was the entrance of the cage, like a lion’s mouth waiting for anyone foolish enough to enter. She placed one hand inside, feeling the comfortable leather padding. Breathing deeply, she watched her head as the first half of her body went inside. It was small enough that she would either have to remain on her hands and knees or sit, but long enough to easily fit two people inside.

“Breaking the rules, I see.”

Hermione was thankful that the top of the cage was also padded, or she would have knocked herself unconscious with the way her entire body jerked at the voice.

It was Evanna, standing with her arms crossed, her face frowning, yet it looked like an amused grin wanted to erupt. How could Hermione have missed her footsteps?

“E-Evanna! I-I…” babbled Hermione as she awkwardly tried to turn around exit.

“Stop!” ordered Evanna with a scolding tone that Hermione had not heard in years. “Stay there, little lady, or you’ll be in bigger trouble than you already are.”

Hermione nodded nervously, watching as her big sister sighed and started to take off her clothes, starting with her coat and shirt, followed by her skirt and shoes, eventually leaving her only in lingerie, until that too was discarded. Hermione blushed at seeing her full, perky breasts and the trimmed patch of blonde hair above her naked womanhood.

Evanna went to the armoire and grabbed the box containing the steel collar and the cuffs. She knelt down, holding the box with both hands in front of her, and she set it down ceremoniously. Expertly, she put on the cuffs first, clicking noises from integrated locks ringing in the silence. She followed with the ones on her ankles. Finally, holding the collar with both hands, she opened it and locked it around her neck.

She didn’t spare a glance at Hermione as she walked to a small fridge and took out a small block of ice. “You don’t need to use the loo, do you?”

Hermione shook her head, her throat too strangled to use words.

Evanna nodded and set the small block of ice in a bucket in front of the cage, then, she made her way to the entrance, got on her knees, and crawled inside next to Hermione. She closed the cage behind her, and then grabbed a small lock to shut the cage for good. Taking a second look at the bucket, Hermione managed to see a small metal key in the middle of the ice.

“Well then, I’d say it will give us around a couple of hours. Plenty of time to have a small chat, hmm?”

Finally, Hermione found her voice. “E-Evanna. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to –“

“You didn’t mean to come down here? Undo the locks on the door? Put on a collar? Crawl inside a cage?” She chuckled. “Why do I find that a little hard to believe, Hermione? Listen, I’m here to listen and to talk, but don’t give me foolish excuses. I taught you better than that.”

“Why?!” Hermione blurted out, and the questions just kept on coming as soon as she thought of them. “Why do you do this? Why did you quit your job to do this? Why do you like to get tied up? Why are you so subservient? How could someone as smart as you accept this? Why do you put on a collar like a pet?”

“Calm down, Hermione.” Evanna laughed. Her fingers touched the steel around her throat reverently. “When I put this on, I give myself over completely. I lay everything at your parents’ feet. Any worries, insecurities, stress or anxiety – they take it all away. I’m freed from everything.”

“B-But you were free before! You had a job, and a bright future! You could have been made CEO one day!” protested Hermione, her hands turning to fists. “Now… you’re just some slave!”

The words were harsher than she intended, and yet Evanna didn’t look fazed.

“A slave? Huh… I guess I am,” responded Evanna. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I really should just go back to how I was before. Waking up to a loud alarm and a cold bed. Going to work for people that couldn’t care at all about me. Toiling day and night to make money for stone-faced men and women in suits. Then going back to that invisible cage of an apartment, all alone except for myself, with nobody to hold me and love me. That’s the freedom you talk about? That’s the independence and strength you idealize?”

Hermione shook her head. “I did not mean… you know what I mean,” she babbled.

Evanna’s eyes bore deep into hers. “I chose to be a slave to your parents, rather than to a corporation that barely acknowledged who I was as a person. With your parents, I found love, understanding, and support. They pushed me to write and to draw, because they knew that’s what I truly loved. I matter to them. I am important to them. That’s why I submit to them.”

“Now, I ask you, Hermione – is that really slavery? Because if it is, then to hell with freedom. I want no part in it. I may not be making millions, but I am doing what I love and the money is more than enough. Is it really such a crime to live this way?”

“What’s wrong with being… a little bit normal? What’s so special about this… kinky stuff that you and my parents like?” ‘And Harry,’ she added the last part to herself.

“Trust, Hermione. That’s what it’s all about. Trust. It does not work any other way. This is about having the courage to give yourself up, fully and deeply, to someone else. Someone you know will take that responsibility and not abuse it. Do you know of anyone like that?”

There was only one person that sprang to mind. “No,” whispered Hermione in response, and then winced at Evanna’s dubious stare. “I mean… there is… but not someone I can start a relationship with.”

Evanna giggled. “Harry, is it? The boy you always talk about?”

Hermione felt her ears get warm. “Y-Yes,” she responded sadly. “Like I said, not someone I can start a relationship with. He has a girlfriend now… a girlfriend who is into this type of stuff. That means Harry is as well. And this witch… she’s beautiful.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Hermione. I’ve seen you grow from an awkward, mousy little girl into an increasingly beautiful young woman. And you’re his best friend. Surely pure beauty is no match for that. Or is she just that gorgeous?”

Sighing, Hermione responded. “Remember my second-year math teacher? Miss Willows?”

Evanna widened her eyes. “That pretty?”

“Prettier.” She hugged her knees. “But that’s not all. They really like each other. From what I’ve talked with her, she really does love him because of who he is. And like I said, both of them are into this stuff already. I’m no match for that. Bloody hell, I don’t even know what I want out of a relationship!”

She touched the collar she had placed on herself. “I put it on, but I don’t feel a thing.”

Evanna’s finger traced the collar. “The reason why the collar did not feel special is because this is my collar, given to me by my Master and my Mistress. It has no meaning to you until you surrender to your dom and he accepts you, then marks you as his with his own collar. I cannot do that for you, Hermione. That’s someone you must find for yourself, and from what you tell me, you’ve already found him.”

Hermione felt her eyes beginning to sting. “I can’t, Evanna. I told you –“

“You have not even tried it yet. I will give you the best advice I’ve ever learned. The one that brought me happiness: put your heart first, Hermione. Listen to it, understand it, and follow it. Happiness can be gone forever in an instant. When the time comes, don’t think too hard on it, just act.”

“Follow only my heart? You know I must think about it more than that! What if I can’t do it?! What if they get angry at me?! What if he thinks I’m a pervert?! What if she thinks I’m just a thieving whore?! What if –“

Evanna wrapped her tender arms around Hermione, pulling her to her chest. Hermione could hear only her own breathing, and the soothing rhythm of Evanna’s heartbeat.

“Shh… Listen to it, Hermione. Just listen.” She repeated the mantra, not letting go even as her bare skin got soaked with Hermione’s tears. She kept on repeating it even as Hermione sobbed loudly, only moving to run her fingers around her little sister’s brown hair. “Listen to your own heart, Hermione. Listen to it above all else.”

“I will,” promised Hermione, drying her eyes. “I will.”

The exhaustion of countless months crashed into her all at once. Her worries and stress, all taken away. She fell asleep in that cage, in her big sister’s arms. Her big sister that wore a collar, cuffs, and nothing else. In the middle of a room that held countless stories of perversion and passion.

It was the best sleep Hermione had in years.

AN: Back after writing a couple of chapters from my Naruto/Marvel crossover. Thanks for reading. I wish you all a Merry Christmas, and consider this my little holiday present for all of you.

If you like this chapter, please leave a review. Or you can go to my Discord server to talk directly

Link: FEKnu79

Until next time!

The Metal Sage