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 XXVI: Trouble in Paradise

Harry could already feel the headache brewing as he walked up the stairs and went directly to Fleur's bedroom. Without knocking, he turned the handle and entered to see Fleur sitting in front of her vanity.

He wasn't up for any games now "What just happened?" he demanded.

"Zat chienne deserved to be taught a lesson, mon chéri. Hera knows nobody 'as given 'er one yet."

"So you decided to burn her clothes? Imagine if someone did that to you?"

Fleur turned to give him an annoyed look. "I do not act like 'er, and you shouldn't tolerate eet. Strutting around, giving orders like she owns ze place. Zis is your manor, 'Arry Potter – not 'ers. Evidently, nobody 'as ever given 'er a lesson in 'umility. 'Opefully ze lesson sticks."

"You're right. It is my manor. I believe that means I should get the final say on what happens, especially since Daphne is my betrothed. I never gave you permission to decide what punishments, if any, should be given to her. Whether she deserved them or not."

Harry let his words sink in. "Furthermore, as your betrothed, as the lord of this manor, and as your dom, it falls to me to punish you when you act like this."

Fleur flashed a grin. "Oh? Punishment? Will you be taking me on your lap again? Eet's been a long time since you've let loose on my ass, Maître."

"No. This will not be one of those punishments," Harry stated, hardening his eyes. He didn't want to do this, and yet he felt as if it was his duty, his responsibility to keep his household together. "You are not going to enjoy this, Fleur."

She raised an eye in response, almost as if daring him to do his worst.

"Daphne has no clothes," Harry started, stating the obvious. "And it doesn't seem fair that I or Lord Greengrass should pay for new ones." He let his words settle, never breaking eye contact with Fleur. "You and Daphne share similar body types. Your clothes should be able to fit her for the moment. So, you will donate half of your wardrobe as compensation."

At first, Fleur's eyes hardened. The idea of giving away something she held in high regard to her rival must've ribbed her fiercely. Slowly though, that anger shifted into an amused smirk. "You want me to give 'er my garments, mon cherí? Ze ones I don't use much anymore, now zat I 'ave far more fun and beautiful things to wear?" She pulled on her skirt to reveal the shiny lingerie underneath. "Or should I give ze leetle putain some of zese? Oh, how much fun eet will be to see 'er try eet on!"

Harry wanted to sigh. This would not be a punishment for her.

"That's not all," he continued, looking at Luna. "There will be no play sessions from now until you formally apologize to Daphne for burning her clothes. No backhanded apology either, it has to be real, and you have to promise her that you will not do anything like that again. We don't damage property in this house. Is this understood?"

Despite the strength of his words, Harry hated every one of them. He truly, absolutely didn't want to resort to this. But he couldn't just be the man who loved Fleur Delacour. He needed to be Lord Potter, the man who would defeat Voldemort. He couldn't do it without the Greengrasses.

Fleur, finally understanding the situation, dropped her smirk and softened her eyes. Merlin, it was killing him to do this. He wanted nothing more than to hug and kiss her.

Luna also gave him a crestfallen look. He would need to cheer her and Susan up with some sessions of their own. They hadn't done anything bad, after all. But both of them clearly wanted to play with their Mistress as well, and he knew that Fleur's dominant side had helped him bring their strange, polygamous arrangement into something that didn't just work, but gave all of them a sense of belonging. He would need to satisfy the dominant part all by himself for now.

For now, he needed to harden his heart and turn around. "Come, little moon," he ordered Luna as he walked out of Fleur's room.

For the first time, Luna didn't immediately follow his orders. Harry was halfway through the hall until he heard the blonde's hurried feet speeding right behind him. He calmly put an arm around her shoulders as they entered his room. Going over to the table, he sank into the couch and finally let out the anguished breath he'd been holding.

Luna swiftly knelt at his side with practiced grace. It was natural to see the blonde taking her seat on the floor, so he didn't protest. He did end up tracing her long tresses with his hand, the soft hair feeling like silk on his fingers. It was almost therapeutic.

"Master? Is everything going to be alright?" asked Luna, silver eyes looking up at his own. "I don't want you and Mistress Fleur to be angry with each other."

Harry caressed her hair for a few moments, but he slowly gave her a comforting smile. "Don't worry, little moon. Fleur can act out every once in a while, but we always come back together. It'll be hard to fit into our new roles with Daphne Greengrass, and yet we've gone through worse. This is just a bump in the road. We'll be back together before you know it."

Luna gave a nod and dreamy smile.

He patted her head. "Now, why don't you go find Susan and bring her here. I think she could do with a good cuddling, don't you think?"

"Yes, Master."

Hermione Granger was frustrated.

Well, frustrated, tired, and bored. Every other year, this would be easily remedied by walking to the library and filling her basket with books. Now, she didn't have much time to read because of her chores, which led to her being tired. Molly Weasley had them running up and down the dilapidated home of the Blacks cleaning and tidying the place up.

The frustrated part… well that was just the sum of the last two. Not only did she spend her time not catching up for the coming school year, preparing for her OWLs, she was also surrounded by people that she wouldn't mind in small doses, but living together with for the better part of a month almost had her pulling her hair in frustration.

Molly Weasley was not a bad woman, but Merlin was she overbearing, and she had the tendency of trying to play matchmaker – a task she was utterly horrendous at – with her and Ron. If she had to tell Ronald Weasley one more time to stop eating and do his job…

The twins were up to their shenanigans, but their apparition trick was getting old. At least they had that new shop they were building with the money Harry had donated to them. She never thought those two would ever be so serious about seeing something work out. Finally, the perennial pranksters of Hogwarts had found a constant work ethic.

Thankfully, before Molly had quartered her with Ginny, Tonks had invited her to her own room.

Ginny.

Usually, Hermione would get along fairly well with the youngest Weasley. But now, her crush on Harry was getting a little too much. It didn't help that she had been picking out nicknames for the… how many was it now? Four. Four witches, Hermione reminded herself. Fleur, Luna, Susan, and Daphne; Phlegm, Loony, Airhead, and Ice Bitch, as Ginny had christened them. Daphne's name was well earned, and Fleur could be a bit snooty, but Susan was one of the nicest people she'd met. Same with Luna, once you got past the oddities.

All of it was getting a little silly.

Hermione didn't feel like a hypocrite. She liked to think that her crush on Harry was something more, something real. Harry had been her best friend for years. He assured her that the sentiment was reciprocal. She wasn't going to try to sabotage his relationships, just join as another part… if he would have her, that is. Evanna was happy with her parents despite their unorthodox arrangement. It could be the same for her, right?

Besides, she was making great strides in getting into his interests.

The last part actually added to her frustration. Evanna had been slowly teaching her about this… particular interest. Kink, BDSM, bondage, all of the different names that she still had to wrap around her head, and she wanted to learn more about, and now she found herself unable to continue her research. Unless she found some explicit literature between the dust and cobwebs, her exploration had halted.

Well… not completely.

"Ugh! I'm bored," groaned Tonks as she got up from her bed. "Gonna go out for some ice cream and see a movie. Coming?"

Turning from her place at the dilapidated desk, Hermione shook her head. "Sorry. Still have to read up on my OWLs. Haven't had the chance to study as much as I would like."

Humming, Tonks placed her hands on Hermione's shoulder. "Girl, if you studied as much as you would like, you'd never leave this desk. You need to get out, have some fun, and let your hair down. Not everything is books and tests. Besides, you'll ace those OWLs easy peasy. My clumsy brain managed just fine and it's barely half as powerful as yours."

"I can let my hair down," muttered Hermione. "Trust me."

Tonks hummed disappointedly again but let go of her shoulders. "Suit yourself. One of these days I'm going to drag you out of that desk to have fun, though."

Hermione waited until she heard Tonks' clumsy steps fade slowly into silence. When only the creaking of old wood reached her ears, she relaxed her posture and reached below the bed for her trunk.

As soon as she opened the clasp, Hermione's heart sped up. She licked her dry lips while pulling out several books and parchments, until her eyes caught the crimson red color of the soft ropes she had taken from her parents' playroom. Despite her quickened breath, Hermione couldn't help the little smile that tugged at her shaking lips.

"Now I can let my hair down."

With her excited hands, Hermione grabbed the rope and set it on the bed. Her gaze turned towards the lightly stained full body mirror nailed to the wall as she pulled on the hem of her shirt, leaving her with only the fancy pink brassiere she was wearing underneath, a gift from Evanna. Hermione was finally taking her big sister's advice on appearance to heart.

Her fingers went back to the bed, where her wand rested just beside the neatly arranged rope. With a deep breath, her fingers felt the soft wood of her wand. She pointed at the rope and cast a spell.

The charm was one she had worked on, a modified version of the Incarcerous charm. Instead of rough rope springing from her wand, the red rope rose from the bed and untangled itself. Hermione watched with heavy breaths as what was once a neatly arranged bundle extended into a cord, folded only once, of several meters in length.

The first muted whimper left her mouth as the rope touched below her breasts, feeling the soft texture as it surrounded her body and one end slipped in the hole left by the folded end. Hermione relaxed, knowing her charm would work perfectly then. She extended her arms to allow the rope to circle above her chest and then tie both strands together, squeezing her breasts lightly.

The entire harness was supported by a neatly arranged tie on her back, and held together as the rope went around her neck and underneath her arms, connecting to the rest of the rope that bound her breasts.

Hermione licked her lips, feeling the rush on her heart and the heat all over her body. Eyes slowly opened to see the charm finishing its work around her upper body. The red rope contrasted against her light skin, bringing out its color, and the way it tenderly squeezed her breasts made them pop out, further accentuating the curves on her body. Her now hard nipples almost popped out of the bra as the knots were secured on her back.

But there was still more rope, and the charm was not done. As soon as the harness around her chest was secured, the rope traveled downward and circled around her waist, just below her stomach. As it tightened, it made the curves of her hips pop out, further enhancing her figure. All of it was connected with the same restraints, from the top of her shoulders down to her waist.

Her mind went back to a few months ago, seeing Fleur walking around in a harness similar to this one, which she had recreated with Evanna's help until it was almost identical… except for one little detail.

The last part of the rope waggled in front of her, almost like it was asking her permission to continue. Hermione bit her lips and gave a shaky wave of her wand. The rope snaked down and between her legs, nestling right between her womanhood as it emerged behind, pushing her panties hard as it finally fastened itself on the small of her back with a tight knot.

Hermione's eyes returned to her reflection. She had been slowly getting used to seeing her body bound up but the initial shock still had its effect. Seeing the way the rope enhanced her figure – pushing out her chest and defining her curves – still made her blood rush, her head feel light, and a heat grow between her legs. A heat that was now being stimulated by the length of rope that rubbed firmly against her lower lips.

The moment Hermione turned around to see the back of her harness, she let out a sharp gasp as the rope dug even deeper, stimulating every bit of flesh from her pubic bone all the way to the small of her back. Her legs shook beneath her and almost made her lose balance. With shaking breath, her fingers grasped the rope and did her best to undo the prominent cameltoe. Even her panties were being dug into her entrance.

Now she understood why Fleur had been sweating so much!

As soon as her body got used to the new stimulation, Hermione glanced back to the reflection to see her butt framed and enhanced just as her breasts had been. The restraints at her hips and between her legs squeezed out each fleshy globe considerably. Without thinking, Hermione ran a hand over the pale flesh and groped it lightly. She would never reach Susan Bones' proportions, but Merlin! This was her butt!

When Hermione licked lips again, she let out a muted giggle.

Her eyes went back to the trunk and the spare rope she still had available. Evanna had bound her hands and feet a couple of times. The rush of those moments had been intense. Hermione, who usually prided herself on her independence, found her body getting the hottest when her physical freedom was taken away.

Being bound made her so helpless… and that was frighteningly arousing.

As her hands felt for the rope again, she remembered Evanna's warning about "playing" on her own. Hermione had only practiced by binding her feet and legs, obviously binding her hands would be a tall order, especially with her lack of rope skills. With the charm it would be a different story, and she had designed it to be safe…

She bit her lip. The need to reach that level of restraint was overwhelming. It took every ounce of her willpower to put the rope and her wand down.

Suddenly, a sound made Hermione's heart sink to the ground.

Footsteps.

Rapidly approaching footsteps. Hermione froze at the sound, her blood running cold as each consecutive step got closer. It took a curse and a stumble to finally snap her body into action.

Her trembling fingers reached for her wand, but dropped it, and to her dismay, it rolled beneath the cupboard. She launched herself on the floor, gasping at the way the ropes rubbed against her entire body, and tried to reach below the furniture. Her hand found the wand, but clumsily pushed it further away, far beyond where her bare hand could reach.

"Bloody…" Hermione closed her eyes. Through the noise pumping in her ears, she could hear the footsteps, each one stabbing at her heart. Her hands went to the ropes and the knot behind her back. Too tight.

Raising her body up drew another tug between her legs. Hermione bit back the gasp that threatened to come out as she frantically looked at her bed for clothes. As fast as her hands could move, she snatched the shirt and pulled it over her head. She discarded the jeans and opted for a skirt, putting it on just as quickly. Her feet found a pair of sandals and slipped them on.

She jammed the rope back into the trunk and snapped it shut. Just as the knob turned, Hermione sat on the bed, her back as straight and stiff as a board. It was all she could do to ignore the rope digging into her skin, especially the one cleaving between her legs.

When the door opened, Tonks entered with an annoyed face, dragging her feet until she collapsed face down into her own bed dramatically.

"Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred. I'm going to strangle that woman in her sleep one of these days," grumbled Tonks, her hair going from angry red back to purple with bright green highlights. She huffed into the pillow before rising again and setting her eyes on Hermione. "Molly didn't go and get supplies for the week and now she's asking us to do it."

Hermione's stomach dropped. "Wha…!"

"Come on. The faster we can do this, the better." Tonks' hand snatched Hermione's arm and pulled her to her feet. Hermione clenched her teeth as the entire harness shifted along with her body.

"T-Tonks. I d-don't think I c-can…" she stuttered, but Tonks was already dragging her out the door.

With every step, the harness made its oppressive presence known. Even when she took a breath, her chest expanded and the ropes compressed against her skin. A glance down and she could see her breasts bulging out.

Of course, the real problem was between her legs.

Hermione bit her lip as the length of rope that ran from the front of her waist to the small of her back rubbed her nether lips relentlessly. Just about every step down she took stimulated the very core of her sexuality. This wasn't teasing, but full on groping! She was briefly reminded of Devil's Snare, if the plant had been as much a deviant as the people in her life.

As much a deviant as Hermione was slowly becoming.

By that time they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out through the door and into the London streets. The heat of summer hit her like a hammer, but that wouldn't have been enough for her to start sweating immediately. It was like a million sensations, both physical and emotional, stabbing at her at the same time.

But she didn't act on any of them. The only thing kept her moving forward was Tonks, pulling her along by her hand. At no point did she try to stand her ground, despite the increasing sensations of the harness biting at her flesh, nor her pummeling heart rate, not even as her brain seemed to be melting with thoughts both horrifying and salacious, all coming too quickly to process.

Why didn't she say "no"? It… had never crossed her mind, and even now she couldn't say the words.

A wet feeling gathered between her legs. It wasn't sweat.

She noticed a pair of boys, good looking boys at that, turn around and give her a look. A pit formed in her stomach, fully self-conscious about what was going through their minds… but there was also a terrifying thrill. Nobody had ever looked at her like that! Her eyes peered down at her body. Her hips, her waist, and her breasts were different. She had a woman's body now.

'Because below all of this… I am… ' Hermione swallowed the dryness in her throat as they entered the bus. A muggle one, thankfully. She didn't think she would be able to survive driving on the Knight Bus.

She followed Tonks up the stairs, the rumbling engine drowning her whimpers when her legs climbed up the stairs. They found seats near the back just as the bus slowly surged forward. Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed on the seat, letting her body cool down with the bus' air conditioner.

Hermione couldn't relax completely. Even without movement, the ropes still held firm, not relenting even a single inch, but at least she wasn't fighting the harness for the moment. The rope between her legs had dug in deeply. She looked around. There were too many eyes, including Tonks.

'I am bound beneath all this'. The reminder sent another wave of heat throughout her body. With the cold air, it felt like her skin was covered in a clammy sheen. She winced when she swallowed the dryness in her throat.

Too soon, way too soon, Tonks grabbed her hand again. "This is it," she said, pulling Hermione to her feet.

Hermione bumped into a few people on the way down. Her heart dropped when she unintentionally pressed her back against another young woman, where all of the knots had been tied into the thickest bundle. Jumping slightly, it only made the rope cleave further into her sensitive flesh.

The bus stop was thankfully close to the supermarket, and Tonks had slowed down her pace as she pulled out a hastily scribbled list.

"The Weasleys are eating machines," grumbled Tonks. With a grin, she pulled out a pencil and filled it further. "At least I'm getting my strawberry ice cream out of this. Anything you want to add, 'Mione?"

"Rope." It came out as a whisper.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"N-Nothing. Let's just do this quickly so we can get back," Hermione added with a stuttering voice, walking towards the buildings. She felt her body freeze as a hand was lightly placed on her shoulder… right on top of the rope.

"'Mione?" Tonks said her name, far too seriously. "Are you alright? You're not sick are you?"

"No!" squeaked Hermione, turning her body around awkwardly, freezing once again as Tonks placed the back of her hand to her forehead.

"You're heating up, 'Mione. Your face is all red and you're sweating."

Hermione tensed even further, like a statue. "I'm fine!" she said stiffly. "It's just… I haven't had much sleep. Been, uh… studying all night." She tried to laugh it off, but Tonks didn't look convinced. "Look, Tonks, let's just finish this up so we can go back and rest. Just… order me to do something. Please?"

Tonks gave her a muted look, confusion dancing in her eyes. "Okaaay… we can split the list," she said, tearing the piece of paper in half and giving one to her. "Take a basket and pick up the ingredients. I'll do the other half and meet you at the cashier in half an hour. Think you can do that?"

"Yeah, sure. Let's go."

A warm calm spread over Hermione's muscles. She had something to do, a task to occupy her thoughts. She was thankful for Tonks' no-nonsense tone that didn't leave room for argument. A command was given, and all she had to do was follow it. With renewed strength, she went for one of the baskets, gritting her teeth at the harness' groping, and looked at the first item on the list.

Hermione soon found herself in the vegetable section, picking out tomatoes and cabbages. The teasing was still relentless, but her mind was no longer a storm, now that she was doing her task. The only moment she stopped was when her hands reached for a large cucumber. Her fingers curled around the vegetable and tested the hardness.

A deep breath at her side broke her thoughts.

Turning her eyes to the source, Hermione saw a woman that was fiddling through a pile of celery, but her eyes had been looking at her before tearing them away at the last moment. Hermione furrowed her brows, trying to see where the line of sight had been. For a moment she thought one of the ropes must've popped through her shoulders. Eventually, Hermione looked downward.

There was a wet patch staining the front of her skirt.

Hermione felt her face burn even more at the embarrassment, placing her basket right in front of her and turning away from the woman. She could feel eyes burning at her back as she left the aisle. Once again, her mind was in turmoil, and the sensations multiplied tenfold. Every fiber of the harness seemed to be digging into her, not relenting its oppressive presence for a single second.

And it only made her pussy ache even more fiercely.

As she turned to another aisle, she could feel small trails of liquid running down her legs. Her breath quickened as she looked around. None of the people seemed to be looking at her, but her mind couldn't stop playing tricks, as if expecting everyone to turn their gaze onto her. Dressed in her fairly conservative skirt, shirt, and sandals, Hermione had never felt so naked.

But beyond the endless stalls of boxed cereal and sweets, she saw a sign at the end of the hallway which filled her with hope. Taking quick steps and holding the basket in front of her thighs, Hermione passed through every one of the shoppers, hiding her burning face by looking down. She imagined every one she passed looking at her, seeing the constricting ropes beneath her clothes.

As the trails of wetness cascaded down her legs and almost reached her knees, Hermione reached the bathroom and opened the door, leaving the basket outside, rushing to one of the thankfully empty stalls and shutting it behind her.

She felt a wave of relief spread through her muscles as she finally felt free of the countless eyes, imaginary or not, and rested on the toilet seat.

Hermione forgot about time as she allowed herself to catch her breath and more importantly, get her thoughts in order. She ignored the sensations of the harness, but could not put it out of her mind completely. Even now it groped her. In fact, she was pretty sure the entire thing was even more stimulating than it had been when she had magically bound herself.

When she felt her heartbeat slow down, Hermione pulled the shirt above her head and looked at her body.

Her breathing was constrained as the ropes had become tighter. Not enough to cut off circulation, she had made sure the charm would not do that, but that didn't stop it from digging deeper into her skin, so much so that she could barely manipulate them to a different position. When she tried to relieve the length between her legs, it only put more pressure on her waist and shoulders and went back to its position when she let go. Shaky fingers reached behind her back to search for the bundle of knots. She cursed the effectiveness of her own charm when she couldn't find which small knot she should untie first. Some of them were buried beneath the mess. Even if she could find them, untying them seemed out of the question. Anything short of a knife or her wand would be futile against it.

Worst of all, it was impossible to ignore the fact that she was still wet! How could this be exciting? Was she insane? What was happening to her?

Slowly, she raised herself from the seat and carefully stepped out of the skirt. She was sweating underneath, but that was nothing compared to the wetness that had gathered between her legs. The bright red rope had been drenched into a dark crimson color, and the white panties were almost transparent now. The wetter it was, the tighter it got, and now the rope had cleaved relentlessly into her nether lips. Trembling fingers tried to pull it away to no avail.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. 'Just what have you gotten yourself into, Hermione Granger?'

Her mind drifted off into an unbearable amount of scenarios of what might happen and how. Just how much had people seen? Had they seen anything at all? Would she be taken out of the store for indecent behavior? The whole thing seemed impossible, and yet her imagination ran wild at the thought of some security guard ordering her to strip in front of the entire store.

The fire that spread over across her body carried shame, fear… and maybe a little excitement?

How? How could something like that be exciting? Get a grip, Hermione!

'Orders. I have orders to fulfill. Complete the task, Hermione Granger. You can do this. Just follow the orders.' Her mind once again centered into one objective and pushed everything else aside.

She reached for the napkins and rolled several of them until she ended up with a thick wad. Licking her lips, she reached for the rope between her legs and pulled it as hard as she could so she could slip the napkin between the rope and her womanhood. As soon as she let go, she could feel the padding bringing some relief to the sore flesh. After packing several more napkins further back all the way to her butt, she felt safe enough to put the skirt back on, the wet patch now completely dried.

Before she put on the shirt, Hermione passed more of the tissues around her body, drying up the sweat, and also massaging some of the aches made by the harness. Only when she felt that she had recovered enough, she finished dressing and stepped out of the restroom.

With orders in mind, Hermione's brain entered blissfully into autopilot. She picked up the basket and swiftly went to each of the aisles. The thought of people watching her was placed right at the back of her mind. She had priorities.

Hermione's mind only came back as she scratched the last item off the list, but instead of turning her head for any onlookers, she fixed her eyes on Tonks' bright hair and immediately sped up. The harness was already tightening again and the tugs and caresses of the rope at her womanhood made their relentless presence known, and yet she kept on, focused only on completing her task. When she finally arrived next to Tonks, she let out her breath.

"Done!" she gasped.

Tonks jumped and turned around and looked at the basket. "Okay… feeling alright?"

"Yep!" she said with an uncharacteristically high pitched voice. "All good. Everything's done. Time to pay for it and go back, right?"

"It is… are you sure you're good? You look a little tense."

"I'm good," replied Hermione, dropping her pitch a little this time. "It's just… the heat is getting to me. I think I need a little rest. The faster we pay for everything and get back to Grimmauld, the better."

Tonks still gave her an odd look but nodded. "Alright. Let's go then."

Thankfully, the bright haired older witch didn't ask further as they went to the cashier and paid for the food. Tonks grabbed the heavier bags before Hermione could protest and walked out of the store. They didn't speak much on the way to the bus stop, nor when they boarded the transport. Another thing to be thankful for. Hermione didn't think she could even speak fluently with her shortened breathing.

The summer heat hit her again the moment she stepped out of the bus. Every single step was a struggle, and the relief of the napkins was undone thanks to a renewed bout of sweating and sexual stimulation. She kept her sight forward as she passed several people, not wanting to know if they stared as she strode past them.

But with every step, Grimmauld Place came closer. The strangling hold on her spine tightened as she finally saw the dark building. Relief and excitement spread through her limbs as Tonks finally opened the door and they went inside. Hermione let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" asked Tonks as she grabbed all of the bags.

Hermione shook her head again. "No. Just need some time for myself to rest a bit."

"Alright. I'll get out of your hair. Relax and take some rest. Don't do anything exciting. At least not without me."

'Oh, you have no idea.'

Hermione waited for Tonks to disappear down the hall, but all relief died when her gaze turned towards the stairs. As her breath caught in her throat, it seemed like the steps stretched even further until the darkness swallowed them.

'One at a time. Step by step.' When she raised her leg, Hermione felt the rope dig in savagely. Gritting her teeth was the only thing she could do to suppress the whine in her throat. She reached for the handrail and used it to pull her entire body upward. Two more steps and the moan really couldn't be stopped. She looked around, red-faced, to see if anyone had heard her.

Whether it was the shame of being found out or utter willpower, Hermione slowly began to put one leg in front of the other and pushed herself. Her mind entered into a space of pure sensation, where instinct was the only thing that mattered. Responsibilities and pretensions were all pushed aside for a single goal, the same blissful emptiness she had experienced in the grocery store.

She had a task, and all that mattered was completing it.

The present only returned when her shaking hand found the brass knob of the door to her room. Breathing out a shaky giggle, Hermione opened the entrance to see everything exactly as she had left it.

Pushing through the overwhelming desire to just fall on her bed and stay still, she carefully pulled the nightstand aside until her wand poked out. Hermione had never seen a more wonderful sight. Taking the crafted wood in her hands, and with her heart pumping roughly on her chest, Hermione began to strip out of her clothes, now completely drenched in sweat and an embarrassing amount of another bodily fluid.

She turned back to the mirror. Her foggy haze showed a reflection both shameful and arousing. The brown hair she had combed carefully was now matted in sweat and completely tussled, while the body itself was covered in a sheen of sweat that made her skin shine in the small amount of light peering through the window. The tight crimson ropes that had enhanced her assets were almost suffocating now, distorting her body into exaggerated erotic proportions.

Her entire body was burning, with the core of the fire coming between her legs.

Hermione took hold of her wand and pointed it at herself. For a few seconds she didn't do anything but stare at her own reflection. After all that she had gone through, all she needed was to undo the charm, and yet she did not. She could only stare at the Hermione in front of her, the Hermione brimming with a sexuality she would have been ashamed to see just one year ago, the Hermione that had drenched her panties so much they were completely transparent.

Only when she had burned the image into her mind did Hermione dare to utter the words. The rope immediately heeded her command and undid all the knots at once. The unrelenting grip that had teased and tortured her ceased. Fresh air rushed into her lungs while her muscles gave out. She dropped to her knees, barely holding herself up with the edge of her bed.

The fire between her legs still raged on.

Gathering the last of her strength, Hermione pulled herself on the bed and settled beneath the sheets. Even when she tried to close her eyes and ignore the overwhelming and confusing images in her head, she could still feel the ache in her sex. The pain of the ropes had subsided, but it was still sore… but in a way she found almost pleasing. How could pain be pleasurable?

With a whimper, Hermione pulled the sheets away from her body and watched the skin marred by the ropes. A thrill traveled through her spine as she remembered everything. The walk, the bus, the woman that had seen her, and even the hundreds of people she passed through, each of them capable of having seen her harnessed body. What would they think? That she was some deviant? Some harlot?

She was still wet!

Her fingers trailed felt the marks left on her skin, from her sore chest down to where the heat continued unabated. She hissed and whimpered as she slipped a finger behind her underwear. It was so sore, but the pain only heightened the pleasure as she trailed a nail through her folds.

Hermione could not stop herself. It was like she had found an oasis in the hot desert. Trembling fingers descended into her sex with a mind of her own. Pinching, pulling, petting, inserting her digits gently inside while her thumb rubbed against her clit. Slowly at first, but increasing in pace and intensity as memories rushed back to her.

She remembered the scandalized woman at the store, the way she gazed at Hermione like she should be ashamed, and she was ashamed… but the way her heart raced like never before, the thrill of getting out, the possibility of others watching her as she ran, drenched in sweat and juices across the aisles… it just made the need between her legs rise.

A loud whimper escaped her lips, and for a moment she stopped, mortified that somebody might hear her. The imagination only made her fingers return to her pussy. As she buried her face in the pillow to muffle her increasingly uncontrollable noises, she truly began to play with herself. One of her hands drifted upward and found her breasts. Stimulating the soft breasts made her whimpers become moans, especially as she touched and later lightly pinched her nipples.

Hermione's imagination ran wild. Now, she pictured all of the people looking at her. The boys in the streets, the people at the market, the scandalized woman, even Tonks herself. All of them were staring at her harnessed body, their words lost into murmurs. Some shaming, some laughing… but all of them unable to turn away from the rotten girl who got wet by tying herself up.

The high pitched scream that escaped her mouth was thankfully muffled by the pillow. But in the foggy haze that her proud brain had been reduced to, Hermione doubted she would have cared if somebody heard her.

The only thing the brightest witch of her age could grasp was the overwhelming sensations that were rocking her body. Waves of pleasure came and went, unable to be stopped, and she did not want them to. In fact, she wanted more, for the feeling to remain forever, and perhaps, to be held by someone. In her mind, that figure had green eyes.

Only when the pleasure began to slowly ebb away did Hermione find the strength to move, if only slightly. Her trembling hand left her sex, and as she held it in front of her, Hermione saw the wetness; the proof of her desires. Of who she was as a woman, and what she wanted. The brightest witch at her most honest self.

'You're a deviant too, Hermione Granger.'

"This should be the last of your stuff," said Sirius as he put down the last of the boxes right at the entrance, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oof! This old dog doesn't have the strength he had in his youth."

"You still have your best years in front of you," responded Harry as he grabbed another one of the boxes.

Sirius let out a chuckle. "I still have a couple of jokes left in me. Maybe one big prank for the Ministry to see." He dropped his smile. "Doing alright, Harry? The ladies have been treating you well?"

Harry forced a smirk. "Good as it can be when you have Daphne Greengrass as your permanent resident." He lifted the box, heavy with his stuff. "But we'll get through it, one way or another. To be honest, you haven't come at the best time. There's still much to do before this Manor is back to being fit for guests."

Thankfully, Sirius didn't want to argue. "Alright. Back to Grimmauld for me. Come visit when you get everything in order. Hermione would want to talk to you, and Nymmie is two steps away from blasting Molly away."

Stopping his movement, he was suddenly reminded of Hermione. He hadn't even written to her all summer. With pursed lips, he nodded. "We'll go there when we've settled everything," he promised, watching as his godfather apparated away.

Hauling the boxes one by one to his room was busywork, and it kept him from thinking about his current issues. Something he would need to confront, he knew, but Merlin help him, it was nice to have his mind be engulfed by nostalgia as he opened one of the boxes and saw his copy of The Hobbit sitting nicely on the top.

"Do you need help with that, Sir?" came Susan's timid voice.

Harry turned around to see the lovely redhead dressed in a black and white maid uniform, with exaggerated frills and petticoats, and a skirt far shorter than normal, as well as cute little bows that pulled her red hair into bangs framing her face. White stockings were topped by a pair of shiny black heels. He must've been so submerged by memories that he didn't hear the footsteps. She was accompanied at the side by Luna, who was wearing only her leather harness and nothing else.

He extended his hand and waited for both witches to join him. Susan gave him a bashful look with her outfit. She had been gaining confidence in showing her body.

"You can play guitar?" asked Susan as he pulled out both his acoustic one and later, the electric one. He would need to find a way for him to connect the latter one without the Manor's magic going haywire over it.

"Yeah. Learned since I was a kid." He felt the strings and winced a little at the gathered rust. He hadn't played all year. "Do you know any instruments?"

Susan smiled. "I can play the tagelharpa."

Harry furrowed his brows. "What's that?"

She giggled. "It's an old instrument, I guess. but it's tradition for Bones women to learn it, Norse ancestry and all. You play it with a fiddle. It's been a long time since I played it, though. I should have mine back in the Manor. Maybe I should bring it?"

"A fiddle? I guess that's an earlier version of a violin, or a cello," mused Harry.

"I would like to learn how to play those," muttered Susan as she opened another box and pulled out more books, arranging them neatly on a nearby shelf.

"I can play the flute and the carnyx!" chirped Luna from her spot. "Mum made me learn them. I still have them in Daddy's house so the Nargles don't steal them."

Harry smiled. If he remembered correctly, Fleur knew how to play the lyre, also from tradition. Veela learned several of the Greek instruments as part of their rituals. She mentioned once taking part in a celebration for Aphrodite as the main band.

What kind of instrument did Daphne play?

He laughed as he opened another box and was met with a floppy issue of Spider-Man swinging across buildings. It was one of the first ones he bought after begging Sirius to let him in the comic store. Did Somerset have any of their own? He still had to visit the city after being in the Manor for the better part of a month.

"Batman? Is this some new magical creature?" asked Luna as she curiously grabbed another floppy. "Is he a bat in a man suit? Or does he not know that he is a man that is transfigured as a bat?"

Harry grinned. "Neither. He is a man that fights criminals and uses his suit to inspire terror on them. He also has all types of gadgets."

"I see," mused Luna as she grabbed another box. She furrowed her brow once again. "These are different, Master. The pages have no color."

He turned to her again to see that she had picked up a smaller, thicker book. "Ah, those are Japanese comics. I bought several as a package but never read any of them." He looked at the cover of the one Luna had picked up. "That one is supposed to be about some sailor girl and a talking cat or something. It's gotten fairly popular, I think."

Luna looked at the cover and opened it, but narrowed her eyes, then widened them dreamily again."Oh, you read them from right to left…" Luna noted after flipping through the pages. "'By the power of the Moon?' Oh, that's quite delightful." She giggled as she walked out of the room, eyes glued to the book.

He spent the next few minutes putting the rest of his belongings in their place. Some books were placed prominently, while others were tucked in other trunks and cupboards, childhood memories that were nice to go through, but would not be seen well in a lordly room. Harry would not kill his childhood, but he would set it aside for his new responsibilities.

'One day, I may share it with my children.' His eyes widened at the thought.

"All done, Sir," sighed Susan as she neatly put the last book in place. "Lunch should be ready in an hour or so." Her voice was tense, and had been getting even more so in the three days since Daphne had arrived.

Harry sat on the couch. "Come here, sweetheart."

Susan turned to him with pursed lips. "But I won't be able to finish the meal in time, Sir…"

"We can wait a few more minutes, sweetheart. Come here, please." He patted his lap and watched as Susan gave in and slowly walked to him, gingerly sitting on his lap. As soon as he put his arms around him, she relaxed her posture and sank into his embrace.

"What's happening with Daphne?" he asked. There was no point in beating around the bush. There was only one reason why Susan had gone from smiling freely to walking on eggshells for the past three days. Susan had also been the only one that had entered Daphne's room since she arrived, from the moment she delivered Fleur's clothes as replacement.

Susan pressed her head on his shoulders. "She's… been difficult," she finally said, like a dam breaking. "I'm worried about her. She doesn't want to leave her room and barely eats. Her skin is getting paler. I keep telling her that going out will be good for her, but she isn't listening." He felt wetness pour into his clothes where her eyes were. "We were so close before all of this, and now she won't talk to me. I just feel so useless. Harry… I feel like my heart is being torn apart."

Harry pulled her closer to him and rocked her body back and forth, comforting her as best he could with his body. "It's alright, sweetheart," he assured her. "Remember that we're here to help you."

The redhead nodded into his shirt.

He waited until Susan calmed herself again and their eyes met. "You know her better than anyone here. Is there anything that could help us break the ice? Something that might interest her? A gift? Music? Anything you can tell us about her? About the real Daphne Greengrass?"

Susan looked at the ground for a few minutes. She bit her lip and closed her eyes several times. A storm was raging inside her.

"I… can't say," Susan whispered and closed her eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you, Harry. These are things that Daphne confided in me. Please don't hate me for it, but I cannot betray that trust. I love you, and I love her as well."

It would be a lie to say that it wasn't frustrating. If there was anything that could help him bridge the gap between Daphne and them, he would want to know. But Susan… she was a sweetheart. A loyal friend and lover. He couldn't be mad at her for keeping faith with another person she cared about so much.

"I cannot hate you for it, sweetheart." He patted her head again while the other arm tightened the embrace. "The hat was right to put you in Hufflepuff. Your loyalty is something I admire and love deeply about you, just as much as your kind heart."

Susan was different from Fleur and Luna. While submissive, she was also emotionally sensitive. He never used the dirty language that was common with the others, nor was he engaging in pain play. The redhead needed praise and much love, sometimes more than he could give. That's where his other lovers came into their role, and now Fleur was missing in that.

Harry gently raised her head so they looked at each other's eyes. He sent her a comforting smile and fixed the little bangs framing her face, taking care not to mess up the ribbons. "All of it is going to be fine, sweetheart. It may look like we're not in a good place right now, but we'll get over it, first with Fleur, and then with Daphne. You'll have your friend and lover back by the end of this. This I promise to you."

She finally smiled through the teary eyes. "Thank you, Sir. I needed that," she said and hugged him again. Standing up, she straightened her satin dress and managed a serving pose. "Lunch will be ready in an hour." She bit her lip and slowly dropped to her knees. "Though maybe that will be a little late, Sir."

Harry watched as Susan nervously placed her hands between his legs and searched for the zipper. His breath hitched, but he didn't try to stop her. Servicing was a way for Susan to concentrate and stay calm. Fresh air greeted his manhood as Susan pulled down his boxer and it sprang through the zipper, quickly hardening.

Susan had gotten used to the sight of his member. She had even bravely taken it inside her several times by now, so there were only small hints of the lingering shyness. Now she knelt with her face next to it.

"Can I do it, Sir?" she asked with her wide grey eyes. "I-I've seen Luna do it several times. It'd be my first time."

Harry almost chuckled at the question, but he just grinned and nodded. "Go ahead, sweetheart."

Susan opened and closed her eyes, as if being served a new dish she didn't quite know how to eat. The redhead had seen Luna do it, but the odd Ravenclaw had been doing it for months and had slowly been perfecting her technique.

"Try licking it first," he said, petting her hair again. "It's alright if you make mistakes."

She nodded quickly, her ribbons swinging over her red face as she extended her tongue. The warm muscle slowly came into contact with the tip of his tool. He gave a throaty groan to encourage the Hufflepuff further. The sensation spread from the tip to the rest of the head, covering it in her wet mouth.

There was a small pause, her grey eyes looking for approval as her lips parted even more. At his firm nod, Susan resumed her oral service.

Her warm mouth carefully engulfed half of his manhood, only stopping when the tip hit the back of her throat, pausing with a small cough. Even when her eyes watered, she didn't withdraw. The sensation was ecstasy for Harry, every nerve feeling the stimulation as short breaths tingled with a promise for more. He had to restrain himself from either pulling her head down or lunging his body forward. Susan was just a beginner, after all.

Susan held fast, breathing through her nose as she carefully got used to feeding more of his length into her throat. Every few centimeters she would stop and cough slightly, sending small vibrations of pleasure from tip to stem of his manhood. He let out another groan of pleasure and placed a shaky hand on the back of Susan's head to pat and encourage further, while subtly preventing her from giving up.

Not that Susan tried to. Even though she closed her eyes and struggled a few times, she never seemed to want to withdraw. Like a true Hufflepuff, she did the things she had set her mind to.

"You're doing such a good job, sweetheart. Keep going," he encouraged further. Susan responded by taking a whole inch more. He turned his gaze to the ceiling and moaned as the rhythmic pulsing of the redhead's mouth and throat massaged every nerve of his tool.

He regained his senses to see Susan stopping for good, her eyes shut tightly as she tried to breathe through her nose. Through the lustful haze, Harry thumbed her cheek tenderly.

"That's alright, sweetheart. You don't have to go all the way."

Susan opened her wet eyes again and looked at him as she finally pulled her head back, but didn't fully let go. The rest of his length missed the warmth of her mouth as she settled solely on the head. After taking a deep breath, she pushed further again, though not as far as before. Harry grabbed one of her hands and placed it on the base. Getting the hint, Susan pushed and pulled at the same time she continued her service.

Letting himself relax and enjoy the pleasure, Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his world focused only on his cock and the wonderful, if slightly awkward sensations that his shyest sub was giving him.

It didn't take long for him to feel the climax coming. His groans continued to increase with each bob of her head until he patted her cheek. "I'm close, sweetheart." That only made Susan increase her pace, now using her tongue to send sparks of ecstasy all over his length, especially concentrating on his sensitive tip.

The burgeoning seed traveled through his length until it erupted into her mouth. Susan opened her eyes in shock and she sealed her lips around his tool. His cock twitched several times until he was spent, the redhead waiting until she was sure nothing was left. When he petted and congratulated her again, she finally withdrew, her lips snapped shut to keep his gift inside.

Susan didn't seem to know what to do with his seed. Her mouth was shut firmly but her fingers pressed over her lips as if to keep any from spilling out. As he kept staring at her, she found his eyes. When she finally got over her shock, Susan swallowed.

Harry smiled and cupped her chin. "You did such a good job, sweetheart," he congratulated as he kissed the crown of her head.

The redhead smiled and wiped her lips. "Th-Thank you, Sir. Sorry, it was my first time."

"You'll do better next time," he assured as he fixed the ribbons on her hair and patted her ass. "How about we have some fun tonight, hmm? Just you and me. Luna if you want to bring her. We'll do whatever you want to explore."

Susan's cheeks turned an adorable pink. "I… would want that, Sir." She bit her lip with a smile. "I-If it's possible, I want to do more with rope. I think… I think I'm ready for a hogtie, Sir."

"I'll make sure of that. You'll enjoy it."

It was impossible for Daphne to keep the bile from swelling inside her as she slipped into yet another one of the French bint's outfits. The light silk cascaded all over her pale skin from her shoulders to her legs. Delacour and Daphne were of a similar enough height, although the bust area was frustratingly loose. It was still enough for her to wear comfortably throughout the day, especially when nobody would see even a single hair of her.

She glared at her own reflection wearing the slutty outfit. Once again she had to remind herself that the whore this dress belonged to came from a background that was far more comfortable with being loose. Stereotypes were exaggerations, but they tend to come from somewhere, and Delacour was a proud Veela.

But that was the same whore that had also burned Daphne's own clothes. If it hadn't been Susan who had told her what happened she would've brewed several nasty potions already. At least Potter had commanded Delacour to give up her clothes to her. That must've stung the bitch something fierce. She would've loved to have seen her face when she had to give up her whorish clothing to her.

But she was Daphne of House Greengrass. It would not do to wear hand-me-downs. Especially not those that belonged to a French floozy like Delacour. Someone of her blood deserved more.

"You have a betrothed that will provide for you now," her father had said. "A good man of decent breeding and character. You will not want for anything, as I promised myself when you were born. You were born a Greengrass, and that will be your childrens' names as well. Never forget that, even as you take the name 'Potter.' You are above all else. Remember that."

Daphne Eleanor Greengrass. That was her name. Greengrass, above all. She couldn't beg for more, and she would not beg Harry for clothes. Certainly not to the Delacour whore. The clothes were given without her asking. She could take more if she wished. But she would not beg. Not to her, not to Potter, not to anyone.

Greengrass. Blood of Morgana, a peerless lineage. She was Daphne Greengrass. She would not beg.

So she would wear the whore's clothes.

The bile that had been slowly simmering in her throat subsided and more sensations came. In her stomach. She turned towards the antique clock to see that it was almost noon. She had smelled breakfast earlier, but would not show herself to the rest of the manor, no matter how delicious Susan's food was. But now there should be no one there.

After taking one final look at her reflection and putting on her best poker face, Daphne opened the door to her room and stepped out. Thankfully, there was nobody in the hallway, but Harry's door was open and she could hear some murmurs coming from inside.

Silently, she passed down the hall and down the stairs, walking past several of the decorations that were slowly being brought back to life by the return of the manor's rightful lord. With enough diligence, it may even become more resplendent than Greengrass manor. That would depend on Potter. For better or worse.

The kitchen had already been cleaned up from breakfast. Daphne knew that Susan cooked in big batches to prevent anyone from going hungry, and kept the remaining food to either eat later or use them into another tasty dish. She found the preserved fruit and bread from the morning and quickly ate them. It was not as good as when Susan had them freshly made, but Susan's leftovers were still better than Hogwarts' best.

Her return journey was not as uneventful.

The annoying cheerful humming heralded a sight that made Daphne think she was in a fever dream. The bright blonde hair of Luna Lovegood danced in the air as its owner skipped merrily, eyes concerned only with a small book in her hands. It was a sight that would not have been strange in Hogwarts, were it not for the fact that the Ravenclaw girl was wearing only an odd arrangement of belts that did nothing to cover her privates. Her small breasts wiggled freely in the air as she passed on her bare feet through the main entrance of the manor.

Daphne stood as still as the Roman statue next to her as the school's oddball skipped past her. She had heard the rumors about Loony Lovegood from the Ravenclaw witches, but to see it with her own eyes was another thing.

Did Potter know what was happening? How could he allow this?!

It only got worse when she continued on her way and saw one of the tea tables occupied by the French whore. And by Merlin did she look like a whore.

Delacour settled on her seat in a relaxed posture. There was no visible makeup or any further enhancements. But what drew Daphne's attention was the outlandish blue dress she was wearing. It was so tight that it almost looked like a second skin. An unbearably shiny second skin. The sunlight creeping through the window reflected from the smooth surface like a mirror, making it seem like it was made out of diamonds.

The dress made no attempt to hide any curve of the Veela's admittedly perfect body, from the shape of her breasts to the perfect hourglass figure, all the way down until it parted to allow her legs to peek through. When she moved, the outfit made a weird sound that awakened strange and unknown feelings within Daphne.

And she thought the clothes that had been given to her were slutty. Truly, the French did not have a sense of shame.

Why? Why was it that there was no attempt to control base desires? This was the home of House Potter! Was there no attempt to maintain the dignity of such a storied lineage? House Greengrass was not run like this, nor were any of the Pureblood families. It had been drilled into her head, from the moment she had memories, just how a good Pureblood was to behave. The blood of Morgana should never be seen settling for less.

What would happen if she had worn such a dress in front of an important gathering? Well, she'd get an earful for sure, and everyone would think less of her. The firstborn of Cygnus was a loose woman. All of the attendants would murmur between them and wonder just what kind of filth Daphne Greengrass got up to into her free time. They would imagine all sorts of scenarios in their heads, some of them outlandish, but some of them true.

She had to banish the image from her mind when she realized how hot she was getting by thinking about it.

"Delacour," she finally said, focusing on the problem at hand.

"Greengrass," she responded.

"What are you wearing?" she asked, scandal and curiosity in her tone.

"What do you mean? Zis is my dress. Zey are meant to be worn, non? Do you Eenglish witches use zem differently?" she responded with a smile and a hint of mockery in her tone.

Daphne took a deep breath. "You know… one day you're supposed to be Lady Potter, right? It might not mean something to you, but it means something to us in these Isles. Do you not have something proper to wear?"

"Oui. You are wearing eet," she stated sharply. "Since I gave you my boring clozzing, I am left wiz wearing my fun latex wardrobe."

There was a delicious annoyance in her voice which made Daphne's heart soar for a moment. Delacour's way with words did not hide the fact that it must've stung to give up her clothes. The hesitation of wearing the whore's dresses evaporated at the thought of hearing that voice again. Daphne would wear all of the dresses and more to make it so.

The joy Daphne felt in her heart quickly evaporated when it became clear that Delacour seemed quite happy with the perverted dress she was wearing, even running her fingers through the glossy smooth surface, a smile of pure joy on her lips. Not caring about what others might think about her appearance or character.

And for a brief moment Daphne imagined herself in that shiny blue dress. All of the responsibilities and duties of a proper pureblood gone, only concerning herself with her own selfish, depraved desires.

But that behavior was acceptable for a deviant Veela, or a silly common loony girl. Not for Daphne Greengrass.

"Is it easy for you, Delacour? To live a life without shame? Without the need to keep your dignity? Do those concepts even exist in the French vocabulary?"

"Een French and in Greek, princesse. But we also 'ave ozzer concepts. Did you know zere are three types of dignity in Greek? Because een our view, we can all wear different faces in different circumstances. I do not need to live my life een my new 'ome like I do on ze outside. But you Eenglish only 'ave one word for dignity, don't you? 'Ow sad, to live life wizzout joy."

"Tell me. In what language that you speak is it right to destroy someone else's property?" spat Daphne venomously.

Delacour's smirk dropped. "Pathos. Somezing zat my kind can struggle wiz, if we are being 'onest. But of course, you also struggle wiz somezing, don't you? I believe zere are words for zat in your language. Was it… being a cunt? Bitch? Spoiled? Well, at least zere are enough words in Eenglish to describe zat!"

Bile simmered in Daphne's throat. "You burned my clothes, whore!"

"And I gave you mine. Eef good fashion does not agree wiz you, you can always ask 'Arry for more."

"I will not beg."

Fleur's eyes lit up. "Oh? Is zat right? Well… we'll see 'ow long zat lasts."

Daphne narrowed her eyes and gave a last look at the whore before she turned around and walked back to her room.

For sure, she could go to Potter and ask for more clothes. It was his duty to provide for his betrothed. She had little doubt he would agree to such requests. All she really had to do was take a few steps out of her room, down the hallway, knock on his door, and make her demands.

She could also choose what to wear. Something perhaps more exciting, or even daring. The kinds of things that all other witches were free to indulge in. Potter would provide for that as well, no questions asked. Her parents had little to say about it now that she had been sold off for an alliance. If she was already fated to a marriage of duty, she might as well drop the image of the perfect pureblood every other day.

But she would not. She could not.

Because she is Daphne Greengrass.

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Until next time!

The Metal Sage