Chapter 22: Competence Observed
Chapter Text
A/N: Harry watches Amelia work, pleased with her efficiency.
-x-X-x-
He stays long enough to see what Amelia does in the immediate. The Director of the DMLE casts a variety of spells first, all to try and detect him or how he intruded on her office in the first place. For a moment, he thinks she might continue to focus on that, ignoring the breadcrumbs he dropped on her desk. If she had, Harry would have been disappointed, admittedly.
But… no. After a moment, Madam Bones slowly sidles her way over to the desk, wand still out and now pointed at the papers themselves. One might think she was being paranoid, but the paranoia is justified for two reasons. Number One, she lives in a world of magic, where even a piece of paper can be used to kill through a variety of hexes and curses. Number Two… it's not paranoia if they actually are out to get you.
Amelia Bones would be Enemy Number One to Voldemort and his Death Eaters if Harry and Dumbledore didn't exist. As things stood, the fact that she commanded a Bronze Medal despite being just one of many of their victims from the Dark Lord's First Rise spoke to Amelia's determination and resolve. She was a fighter and a go-getter through and through and even if there wasn't anything unique or special about her in the way there was for him and Dumbledore, she still represented a significant thorn in Voldemort's side.
Still, eventually the overly cautious DMLE Director makes it to the desk and looks down at the papers, still ready for them to quite literally leap up and attack her. Then she reads a few lines of what's on the first page and Amelia stiffens before suddenly snatching the papers up, eyes widening as they dart back and forth, consuming the text at a truly voracious pace.
Yeah, that was about what Harry expected. After all, the sheaf of documents provided proof of misdeeds tied to individuals that Harry imagined Amelia had wanted to put away for a long, long time. No one overly special, to be clear. They weren't Lucius Malfoy, that was for sure. But they were just important enough in the grand scheme of things that they got a pass. And that… that likely rankled the Madam something fierce.
Sitting back down at her desk, it's clear that her previous work has been entirely forgotten. As Amelia begins poring over the documents he's provided her with, Harry just smiles from where he's hidden, watching her. Unfortunately… it IS rather boring in the end. This was the truth. Harry didn't think he could possibly taint the ensuing events with his presence because at this point he simply didn't think he could be caught.
However, the real downside to sticking around and watching Amelia work was this… he would get bored. Oh sure, studying the woman's severe but beautiful face was certainly fun enough, especially since she didn't know he was still there. But there came a point where Harry found himself somewhat numbed by the tedium of it all.
Hours and hours pass as Amelia Bones turns his initial sheaf of pages into three very full files, one for each of the Death Eaters he'd lined up for her. Her work is to be applauded, but by Merlin is he at the end of his rope by the time something interesting finally happens.
Namely, the sun finally finishes rising and Amelia's enchanted pocket watch suddenly chimes with an alarm. Glancing down at it, she huffs and pulls open a drawer. For a moment, Harry thinks she's pulling out alcohol of all things… but belatedly realizes she's withdrawing a potion when she uncorks the vial and downs the mixture inside without a second of hesitation.
In an instant, the unhealthy pallor that the older witch has developed after being awake all night without getting even a wink of sleep has vanished. Color returns to her skin and she straightens up, clearly re-energized and feeling quite a bit better. Like a good cup of tea, but a hundred times stronger.
Harry watches in amusement as Amelia then proceeds to pull out a mirror and tap it thrice. A male voice comes out of it a moment later.
"Scrimgeour here."
"Rufus. Report to my office immediately."
"… Yes ma'am."
Well now. Wasn't that a blast from the past. Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry tilts his head as he realizes that… yes, that makes sense. Rufus Scrimgeour WOULD still be the Head Auror right now. For a moment, he has to wrestle with his own negative feelings towards the man. Harry and Fudge's very short-lived replacement had not gotten along well. Rufus Scrimgeour certainly gave the appearance of being a much tougher and more stalwart Minister of Magic than Cornelius Fudge had… but that was just it. That was where it ended. Appearance.
The man, commonly likened to a lion, was all flash and no substance. He cared more about public perception than actually persecuting a proper war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He'd also been terribly suspicious of Dumbledore. Which in a way was fair, the old wizard had his fingers in too many pies and was constantly spinning half a dozen plates at any given time.
But Dumbledore was never Scrimgeour's enemy. Not in the same way Voldemort was. After all, only one of them had killed Rufus and taken over the Ministry of Magic in a coup, in the end. Harry honestly shuddered to think what Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister would have done when everything happened afterwards. When magic itself began to die off. When the muggles' wars had sped everything up and left them with no time to react or recover.
Given how they'd failed even with everyone working towards the same goal, Harry didn't think they would have fared any better with a man like Scrimgeour at the reins.
Still… he would try and hold his prejudices at bay for now. Indeed, as he watches Amelia's Floo flare to life and the lion-like wizard in question step into her office, Harry reminds himself that this is not the same Rufus Scrimgeour he interacted with in the previous timeline. After all, that man had no one left to keep him in check. He was Minister of Magic and doing whatever he possibly could to fix things his way.
This Rufus Scrimgeour, however, is still Head Auror. And that means he answers to the Director of the DMLE… one Madam Amelia Bones.
"Read these."
"Ma'am?"
Amelia just points to the chair in front of her desk before flicking her wand so that the three files she's made out of Harry's information slide across to that side. Rufus sits down and opens the first one, eyes narrowing and lips pressing tightly together as he looks over the information for a long moment.
Silence falls in the office as the Head Auror skims through the first file and then the next two. When he's done, he looks… frustrated. But also baffled.
"Ma'am… which of my Aurors did you peel off to do this work? Why wasn't I informed?"
What Rufus leaves unsaid; Harry can hear plain as day. 'How had he not noticed?' It was one thing for Amelia to go over his head… she WAS his boss after all. But for the Head Auror to not even KNOW that she was going over his head in this way had clearly caught Rufus off guard. But then to be fair… she hadn't gone over his head.
"None. And you are being informed, Rufus. You are in fact the first person I'm informing."
Reaching across her desk, Amelia taps the middle file.
"This information… all of this information came to me only last night. By way of a… confidential source. Brand new. And I'm not at liberty to say any more than that at this time."
Scrimgeour's eyes widen at that, his gaze flicking between the three files as he looks at them in a new light.
"… I see. And this… source. Are you sure it can be trusted, ma'am? Are we confident this information wasn't supplied to us to make fools of the Auror Department?"
And there it was. Even as Head Auror, Rufus cared more about appearances than substance. Honestly, he was just as bad as Fudge, just in a different way. Fudge liked to maintain the appearance that everything was perfectly fine even when it wasn't. Rufus, meanwhile, wanted to maintain the appearance of control. That HE controlled everything.
Fortunately for Harry's purposes, Amelia Bones is nothing like Cornelius Fudge or Rufus Scrimgeour. She does hesitate for a moment, looking off to the side as she contemplates his words… and remembers what Harry said to her the night before, the hidden wizard realizes. She's thinking back to what he'd told her, about just how many former Death Eaters were happily ensconced within the Ministry. Within the Wizengamot. Blood Purists. Opportunists. Murderers. Rapists.
The worst sort of scum and she just had to let them slide because there wasn't enough evidence or because they'd been forgiven of the crimes they committed in the past. But not with the information Harry had given her. He'd picked three men who all had committed crimes in more recent times. He'd provided evidence. He'd provided proof. All that was left was for Amelia to act.
"… I spent all night corroborating what I could. Trusted? Maybe. Acted upon? Yes, undoubtedly."
Rufus stiffens as Amelia suddenly rises from her desk, moving to get her coat.
"Ma'am… if this turns out to be even remotely farcical, we could damage the standing of the DMLE. I just want to make sure you've taken that into consideration."
Shrugging on her coat, Amelia looks back at him and nods sharply.
"I have, Rufus. That's why… you don't need to worry. I'll be taking some of our Aurors and handling all of this myself. If it is a trick, then I'll fall upon my sword and you'll rise to take my place. If it isn't… then we'll know where we stand with this new source. Am I understood?"
Rising from his own seat and standing straight, Scrimgeour nods sharply.
"Yes ma'am. Perfectly understood."
Harry resists the urge to whistle… before remembering they can't hear him anyways. So he whistles long and low, impressed as all hell by Amelia's go-getter attitude. Of course, leaving someone like Rufus as Director of the DMLE if this really does go tits-up is a mark against her, but everything else… everything else is quite impressive.
As the two leave Amelia's office, Harry follows the older witch. From there, things do significantly pick up as she proceeds to call all of the Aurors in front of her for an impromptu emergency meeting. With a no-nonsense tone of voice, Amelia proceeds to split them all into three groups, giving them only precisely what they all needed for their missions and nothing less. She assigns Shacklebolt as lead for one group, Dawlish as lead for another, and herself as lead for the third.
Three simultaneous raids with no warning ahead of time. Heh, it's certainly not how the Wizarding World usually operates. Indeed, normally raids like these are planned out weeks if not months in advance… giving the Aurors on the payroll of the Dark Wizards time to get word back to them so they can get their affairs in order and hide the things that need to be hidden.
This ploy of Amelia's can only work once, Harry notes. But he imagines she recognizes that as well and that's why she's making sure all three raids go off simultaneously.
"Alright everyone! You have your orders, so let's move out!"
From there, things move even more quickly. Amelia isn't taking chances. Even if the Death Eaters Harry offered up to her on a platter were little more than small fry, she's acting like they all have the same level of insight into her department as someone like Lucius Malfoy almost certainly did. And… it works. Between Amelia's go-getter attitude and professionally planned raids and Harry's information, the operation is a full success.
He hops over to Hogwarts for an appearance at one point during the day, before returning to Amelia's side as she and her Aurors take down all three Death Eaters, collecting the actual material evidence of their crimes thanks to the information Harry provided her with. It's all there. The hidden trophies under the floorboards, the passcode to open the enchanted safe in the wall, even the exact curses on the dark items buried in the garden so that Amelia's contracted Cursebreaker would know exactly what he was dealing with.
The whole thing goes off without a hitch, and with how much information they already have, the interrogations go just as well. Mostly because the interrogations aren't even really necessary. Thanks to Harry, Amelia and her Aurors know more about the Death Eaters and their crimes than the three criminals remember themselves, quite frankly.
There's a little bit of an uproar all the same, of course. Amelia even has a meeting with Fudge once all is said and done where the Minister hems and haws a bit about how he 'only wishes she'd mentioned something like this in the works'. But he can't actually censure her for doing her job. And Amelia had done her job very, VERY well today.
Finally, night falls and Amelia returns to her office. Harry expects her to simply wrap things up and then head home to get some shut eye since she clearly didn't the night before… but no. The woman makes sure to dot her I's and cross her T's on the gift he'd dropped in her lap, wrapping everything up with a nice bow on top. And then… then she gets back to work.
That potion of hers might have allowed her to make it through the day without any sleep, but Harry doesn't actually know of any potion or elixir that completely replaces sleep. And if he doesn't know about it, it almost certainly doesn't exist.
Amelia doesn't seem to care. If anything, Harry's help has lit a fire under her ass. She seems tired… but revitalized. Rejuvenated, really. He didn't realize it, but Amelia Bones NEEDED this win. She REALLY needed this win.
… He'd always wondered why it had been Rufus Scrimgeour who had become Minister of Magic after Fudge's disgraceful exit. After all, as Head of the DMLE, surely Amelia was more of a shoo-in for the role than her direct subordinate, right? Especially when the Ministry had just been forced to admit that Voldemort had indeed returned.
And yet, it had been Rufus. He'd become Minister while Amelia had continued on as Director until they both died a year later less than a month apart when Voldemort finally stopped playing games and took over the Ministry.
Harry finally understood why that was. Amelia was tired. Not just physically, not just mentally, but also spiritually. She was weary in mind, body, and soul. Perhaps she had put her name forward for consideration as Minister. But Rufus had fought for it a little harder and Amelia… Amelia simply hadn't cared enough to force him to stay in his lane. And in the end, she'd stayed in HER lane while he'd gone on to make an absolute mess of things.
What would the Ministry of Magic have looked like with a Minister Bones? Would it have fared any better against Voldemort? Maybe not. But one thing was for sure, it couldn't have fared worse.
Meanwhile, Harry finds himself watching a reinvigorated Amelia as she settles in to work her way through another night without sleep. And… he considers his options.
Chapter 23: Rest
Chapter Text
A/N: Harry puts Amelia to bed~
-x-X-x-
"Well done, Madam Bones."
Amelia jolts as he appears before her again, a man wreathed in shadow with his voice distorted. But to her credit, she doesn't bother drawing her wand. That said, the older witch does narrow her eyes at him, her hands curling into white-knuckled fists as she studies him in silence for a moment. Harry lets her, knowing she's not going to get much just from staring at him.
Finally seeming to realize this herself, Amelia lets out a tired sigh and leans back in her chair.
"… Your information was accurate. Three Dark Wizards are behind bars awaiting trial because of you. We have enough evidence to lock them away for a long time too."
"Indeed. It was inspired, raiding all three at the same time. It speaks of an aptitude that I'd hoped you would have, Madam Bones."
Amelia's jaw clenches at that.
"Hoped… but didn't know for sure. Is that it?"
Harry lets out a distorted chuckle, seeing as he can't just smile at her purposefully from within his disguise.
"I won't lie to you, Madam Bones. I wanted you to prove me right, but I couldn't be sure until today. Whether the incompetence inherent in the Ministry of Magic could be laid at your feet as well, or if it was merely seeping into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement from other sources and you were doing your level best to hold it at bay as long as possible."
She grimaces at that, looking like she wants to defend the Ministry as a whole… but also knowing she doesn't have a leg to stand on. Humming, Harry continues on.
"Unfortunately, you are just one woman Madam Bones. You alone cannot stem the tide."
THAT she takes more of an issue with, huffing as she glares at him indignantly.
"I am not alone. There are good people here in the Ministry, both in my department and others. I am far from alone."
Harry doesn't chuckle at that, though he does smile. Not that Amelia can see it. Still…
"I'm glad to hear that, Madam Bones. Then why are you here again, forsaking sleep and working through the night once more? You had quite the win today, after all. And yet… you act as though your work is far from done after all of your subordinates have already gone home for the night."
She hesitates at that, clearly not having much of an answer in the face of his brutal truths. He's not wrong, after all.
"… That is not a failing on the part of my subordinates. Rather, it is only a failing on my part."
Oh? She sounds so sure of that too. Trouble sleeping? But Harry had seen her abusing potions. She could have easily gotten one that acted as a sleep aid, but instead she was doing the exact opposite. Heh.
"Very well. Then I shall help you with that, Madam Bones."
Amelia's eyes narrow all over again at that, her lips pursing into a thin line.
"That will not be necessarily."
Harry lets out another distorted chuckle, and then raises an arm wreathed in shadow.
"Ah, apologies. I was not offering. I was telling."
Now the Director of the DMLE's eyes widen and she finally goes for her wand. But it's far too late for that. In fact, as far as Amelia is concerned, she doesn't even see any magic come her way. Just as her wand is hitting her palm and she's lifting it up, a wave of impossible drowsiness hits her.
"You… bastard…"
With a slump, the DMLE Director winds up draped over her desk, wand still pointed in his general direction even as she begins to quietly snore. Adorable, really… but also liable to be incredibly uncomfortable for her if she were to sleep like this. Even if she got the full night's sleep Harry intended for her, she would wake up in significant pain, no doubt.
That just wouldn't do. With a flick of his magic, Harry levitates Amelia out of her chair and over to the couch in her office. He settles her in after removing her robes and any outer garments like jewelry and the like that might dig into her body while she sleeps. He doesn't strip her… he has no need to make their relationship in any way acrimonious at this early stage.
Finishing things up with a nice big fluffy blanket to tuck her in, Harry steps back with a smile as he regards her peaceful, sleeping face. Only to frown as said peaceful, sleeping face only lasts for a moment before contorting into an expression of anguish and grief and heartbreak.
"No…"
The single word leaves Amelia's lips in a murmur but is filled with such emotion that Harry is rocked back on his heels. As he watches her, Harry realizes… she's having a nightmare. And he starts to wonder if perhaps her insomnia isn't entirely related to her trying to save this sinking ship of a Ministry after all.
Well, that just won't do. He's trying to make Amelia feel better, after all, not worse. By forcing her to sleep and thus endure nightmares, he's not exactly helping her as intended. Still, easily enough rectified, right? Drawing his wand, Harry leans forward and taps it against Amelia's forehead. Almost immediately, her facial features relax. It's a simple bit of magic, really. Nothing so perverse as mind control or anything like that. All it does is chase away the nightmares and give a good dream of some sort based on the recipient's own thoughts.
Eyes still closed, Amelia Bones gains the barest hint of a smile to her relaxed expression, even as she finally begins to sleep soundly. Harry won't lie, he's curious for a moment to see what sort of dream she might be having. But… no. Best not to intrude on the poor woman's mind. For now, his work here is done. Well, almost done.
With another flick of his wand, Harry summons a fresh stack of files onto Amelia's desk. More Death Eaters for her to go after, along with all the information she'll need to find evidence that will ensure they're put away for their crimes.
Then, he turns and leaves. Best to get back to Hogwarts for the time being… but he promises himself he'll visit Amelia very soon.
Of course, if he'd stayed just a little longer, he might have heard something interesting. He might have heard the softest of wanton moans leave Amelia Bones' lips, even as the Director of the DMLE squirms under her conjured blanket in a very… unprofessional fashion.
-x-X-x-
"Good girl."
"Mmm~"
Amelia Bones isn't quite sure what's happening. She knows she's dreaming. Just as she knows moments before that she was in the middle of a nightmare. For a long time now, the past decade and a half at least, she's suffered from lucid nightmares. The kind where she knew she was in a nightmare; knew she was asleep… but found herself trapped all the same. The knowledge didn't help her wake up before the nightmare wanted to let her go, nor did it help her fight against the nightmare in any way.
She'd even had someone at St. Mungo's look her over in case the lucid nightmares were the lingering effects of one of the many hexes, curses, or spells she was hit with during the Second Wizarding War. But no. Sometimes the mind betrayed you in a way that wasn't magical in the slightest. Sometimes… you were just broken.
After receiving that unhelpful diagnosis, Amelia hadn't bothered seeking a second opinion or ever seeing another Mediwitch or Mediwizard ever again. She'd just gone on living her life, doing her best by her niece Susan as well as climbing the ranks of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement until she found herself as its Director.
She'd found a way to live with her lucid nightmares. It largely involved avoiding sleep in general through the usage of certain potions. Though some might call it 'abuse' of said potions, it was the only way for Amelia to remain functional. Of course, she would eventually have to sleep from time to time, her mind suffering through the nightmares until her body decided it had had enough rest. But those times were few and far in between.
This though… this was a first. Despite finding herself bound and gagged and dangling from the ceiling, this was a… good dream, surprisingly enough.
"I'm proud of you, Amelia. Proud of your strength. Proud of your willpower."
Amelia shivers as hands glide up and down her body, groping and kneading certain parts of her bound flesh. The voice that washes over her is ephemeral in quality. Not nearly as distorted as it was out in the real world. But the hands? The hands are wreathed in shadow.
A shiver goes up Amelia's spine, even as those hands move around to her buttocks and she feels the tip of something long and hard pressing against her dripping wet slit.
"You've earned a reward, darling. Just relax. Let me do all the work."
The throbbing mast of shadow spears up into her a moment later and Amelia shudders, her eyes fluttering from the pleasure.
"Mmmmm~"
"Yes… you like that, don't you? You enjoy submitting. Funny that someone hiding such a deep, powerful submissive streak would wind up in a position of power with no one to turn to. The Minster of Magic is a cowardly toad of a man, after all. And no one else in your entire life is worthy."
It's true. All of it is true. Amelia whimpers through the gag. This is a secret she always intended to take to the grave. The truth regarding her… sexual proclivities. After all, everyone else who knew about this was dead. And no, she didn't kill them. Rather, the Second Wizarding War had. Not just large swathes of the Bones Family had died, but everyone Amelia had ever confided in, ever trusted in… none of them had survived the war.
They were all bone-headed, courageous wizards and witches one and all. The sort of people that Amelia could trust herself with, that she could truly submit to behind closed doors and lots of security wards.
That's why… she knows this isn't the shadowy figure's doing. Oh, she's sure that the bastard had a hand in turning her nightmare into a dream after he put her to sleep against her will. But this? This fantasy… it's all her own mind betraying her in an entirely new way.
She can only hope he's not watching somehow. Because if he is… well, that's incredibly embarrassing. As things stand, Amelia can do nothing but enjoy the dream sex as she's fucked by the facsimile, pounded into from behind while hanging from the ceiling in a bondage setup she hasn't gotten to experience in over a decade and a half.
After all, she might be lucid… but she's still helpless. It's just that in this scenario, she enjoys that helplessness. She enjoys it all too much.
Until finally, she wakes up. Not before the dream version of the shadowy bastard gives her a kiss on her cheek and a whispered 'Good girl, Amelia' of course. But still, she wakes up, opening her eyes and staring up at the ceiling of her office. A full body shudder overtakes her and Amelia gasps as she realizes how wet she is down between her thighs.
Pulling the fluffy blanket off of herself, she sees that the bastard only removed as much clothing as necessary to ensure she slept soundly. He didn't take advantage of her in any way. That was… good. That was a good thing.
… So then why did she find herself almost wishing he had? Amelia shivers, licking her lips as her hands begin to inch towards her body. At the last second though, the Director of the DMLE pulls then back, clenches them into fists, and swings her legs off of the couch. She needed to get it together. She feels better than she has in months if not years, but that… that's dulling her edge. She has to keep her mind sharp, not let herself get lost in the… almost gentle way he forced her to obey him, to sleep a good night's rest.
Rising from the couch, Amelia doesn't quite know what she's going to do… until she sees the bundle of files on her desk that weren't there when she was knocked out the night before. Slowly making her way over, Amelia circles her desk and flips the top file open. As expected… its more information on new Death Eaters. Dark Wizards for her to put away, hopefully for good.
A shuddering breath leaves Amelia's lips as she slowly sits down at her desk. For a moment, she wonders if he's watching her even now. But in the end… it doesn't matter. Because her next steps are still the same. She has work to do, after all.
-x-X-x-
Harry probably would have headed back to Amelia's office again as soon as he'd put in some time to keep up appearances at Hogwarts… mostly just to see how a full night's sleep would have enhanced the already impressive DMLE Director's work. But alas, before he could do so, he received another message from one Rita Skeeter asking for him to prioritize another meeting with her.
He had to admit, he was curious. After all, the last time they'd talked, Rita hadn't used the story he'd given her. She'd held it all back, keeping his information about the Chamber of Secrets to herself despite him giving her a literal tour so she could see it with her own eyes.
Why was that, exactly? He couldn't help but wonder what Rita was planning. At the same time though, he had no reason to deny her a meeting now. Especially not after all the work he'd put into getting them both to this point. In the end, turning Rita against him by ignoring her would only be to his detriment at this point.
Still, did he continue stringing her along, perhaps with a tale about his third year and the Ministry's incompetency? Did he push her to tell him why she'd held the Chamber of Secrets back from her sensationalist articles? Or did he finally push for full disclosure and bind her to him at long last? It was possible Rita was only asking for this meeting because she was reaching the point where she needed more of him and his big fat cock.
If that were the case… well, it might be time to make Rita Skeeter his woman properly. To offer her everything that would come with agreeing to submit to him completely and permanently. If nothing else, once she was bound to him, she would tell him why she'd kept the Chamber of Secrets story back at least.
Or perhaps there was something to be gained in stringing her along for a little while longer…
Chapter 24: More Rita
Chapter Text
A/N: Rita turns out to be further along than Harry thought, so he puts her to use.
-x-X-x-
He's already made up his mind that Rita isn't ripe just yet when he goes to meet her. Which is why he's caught off guard a little bit when the moment he steps into the Room of Requirement, the reporter ambushes him. Not actually, but with her hands and lips, grabbing him by the face and kissing him deeply. And with her already naked at that.
Harry still responds as if it were an actual attack though, which is somewhat embarrassing for him. His magic whips up in retaliation and even without a wand, Rita finds herself locked in place, seized by his sheer will and held fast by his magic. It takes Harry half a moment to realize that she's not actually assaulting him but instead kissing him… but by that point, the damage is already done.
Pulling away from the older woman, Harry watches her for a moment as her eyes dart back and forth, literally the only part of her that can move. Then, he sighs and raises his wand, which has dropped from his holster into his hand. Tapping her on the forehead, he releases Rita and watches as she staggers back, hoping that she thinks he just already had his wand drawn or something, rather than doing that all silently, wandlessly, and seemingly effortlessly.
Stumbling for a moment before righting herself, Rita flushes. He expects her to get angry, but instead she actually looks embarrassed for once. Frankly, Harry hadn't known that a woman like Rita Skeeter could even feel embarrassment. The sensationalist writer had certainly never shown a capacity for it before.
"Ah… apologies. V-Very quick on the draw, Mister Potter."
Harry raises an eyebrow at Rita, trying to gauge where her head is at right now. He finally takes meaningful note of her current nudity. His eyes flick up and down Rita's body and he hums to himself. Is she using more glamor charms today? It certainly seems like she's given certain portions of her figure a magical 'lift' so to speak since the last time they spoke.
"Like it?"
Rita's hands move up and down her form and she smiles at him in what she probably imagines to be a sultry, seductive manner. Then, not waiting for a response, she drops to her hands and knees and crawls back up to him. The blonde licks her lips and carefully reaches for the front of his robes but when Harry doesn't stop her this time, she hastily extracts his cock from its confines and puts it in her mouth, beginning to suck him off right then and there.
Harry is a little surprised by that. She didn't even ask for information, reaffirm their arrangement, or anything. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd say she was already ready for the binding. But he did know better. This… this wasn't Rita Skeeter ready to be bound to him for the rest of eternity. She was close now, but she wasn't there quite yet.
This was Rita almost at rock bottom. This was Rita who had realized she had become addicted to having sex with him, but still thought she could control things between them. That was why she'd practically attacked his mouth with her own when he'd first stepped into the room. And why she hadn't bothered getting upset with him for his reaction. No, instead she'd gone directly for Plan B, which apparently involved sucking his cock.
As he stares down at her, watching her bob up and down on his dick, Harry decides he's actually happy that he didn't come here tonight with any plans of going all the way with Rita Skeeter. She's not ready yet. But after tonight, she'll be a few steps closer at least. First though…
Reaching down, Harry slides his hand through Rita's blonde locks and grips down on her head, slowly pulling her back off of his cock. She's reluctant to leave his dick but doesn't truly fight him on it even as her tongue swirls around his member all the way to the last possible second as his cock leaves her ruby red lips with a pop.
Panting on her knees before him, pupils dilated with desire, Rita licks those same lips.
"S-Something wrong?"
In her current state, she wants his dick more than she wants his next story. Harry hums and decides that now is as good a time as any to ask her why she didn't run a story about the Chamber of Secrets. He might not get the truth, but he's still curious to see how she'll respond.
"Yes. I had a question for you about our last meeting, Rita. I told you all about Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. I even showed you it personally. I gave you a tour. And yet… where's the story, Rita? I was expecting something in the Daily Prophet, but there was nothing."
Rita freezes for a moment but recovers admirably, to her credit. She gives him a sickeningly sweet smile and giggles.
"Well, I didn't want to endanger you, Harry."
Harry raises an eyebrow in response to those words.
"… Endanger me."
His doubtful tone makes Rita huff as she rises from her knees and saunters away over to the nearby bed. Sitting down on its edge and crossing her legs, the naked blonde leans back on her palms.
"Well… yes. I know the Headmaster arranged a meeting with you the day after my first article went up. It was obvious he suspected you at least in part as the leak. You should know I do my absolute best not to burn my sources, Harry. Of which, you are decidedly one of them."
That gets a blink from the emerald-eyed wizard. Actually, now that she mentioned it… Harry looks back at his memories from the future that never was and has to admit she might just be telling the truth about that. Rita liked to use 'undisclosed sources' a lot when it came to her sensationalist 'journalism'. And the Daily Prophet loved to let her too.
Harry had always assumed Rita's 'undisclosed sources' were by and large just her in her Beetle Animagus form using unethical means to eavesdrop and spy on people. She could quite literally 'bug' people to learn the information she wanted to learn most of the time. But that was only most of the time, wasn't it? The rest of the time, she probably DID need to have at least a few people who knew they could trust her not to drag them through the mud if they told her things. Apparently he was one of those people now.
Except… no. It's a lovely excuse. Very quick thinking on Rita's part too. But it's also a lie and Harry can tell that it's a lie. In the end, Rita has another reason for sitting on the Chamber of Secrets Story. What that reason is, he doesn't know quite yet. He supposes he'll find out once he's bound her magic to him and claimed her as his own though. Once the ritual is over and done with, Rita will belong to him. Her secrets will be his secrets and she will tell him the truth willingly.
Until then… Harry just hums and nods, pretending like he bought it as he slowly approaches her and the bed.
"Well then. Thank you, Rita."
Grinning wickedly, the blonde reporter scoots back onto the bed and spreads her legs wide, showing off her glistening pussy lips to him as she leans back on her elbows.
"I know how you can thank me properly, Harry~"
It's a sign of how far gone she already is. He's turned on the charm, heightened the taste of his magic in the air, and abused the Room of Requirement to really give Rita a proper dose of him during each of their meetings. And she's already like this. She's not quite ripe yet of course… she still thinks she's in control. She doesn't even realize how not in control she truly is.
After all, even as he climbs onto the bed and moves between her legs, Harry reflects that Rita in her right mind would have at least demanded the start of another story from him by this point. He'd come here today all too ready to tell her about his Third Year. About the corruption inherent in the Ministry, about their abuse of Dementors to effectively turn Hogwarts into Azkaban Two Point O all year long just for one man. An innocent man, no less.
But hey, if he didn't have to tell her anything to get his dick wet, he wasn't about to be the one to offer up that information freely. At least… not yet.
Grabbing Rita by the hips, Harry buries himself inside of her a moment later. Her squeal turns into a moan within the second and her limbs come up to wrap around his body. Her legs cross behind his back and her arms clasp behind his neck. Harry grunts, proceeding to fuck her hard and fast while making sure to bombard her with more of… himself, really. His magic was just more of him at the end of the day, after all. And Rita was getting an overwhelming dose of it every time they met like this.
He'd probably feel bad if it were anyone but Rita. And if she didn't keep coming back for more. But the blonde doesn't seem to care so long as she's getting her fix. She moans beneath him, her eyes rolling back in her head in record time. That's another thing Harry has noticed from encounter to encounter with the older woman. She cums faster and faster each time they fuck.
Her inner walls flex and squeeze along his pistoning length and Harry is treated to the sight of a glamor-coated Rita Skeeter's face contorting in pleasure. To be fair, the blonde wasn't ugly in any way without the glamor charms. She was decently pretty enough by herself. But clearly she'd wanted to 'dress up' for him so to speak and who was Harry to complain? He especially appreciated the half a cup size she'd given her breasts.
Thanks to the glamor charms, they even felt real, his hands groping and squeezing her larger tits as she moans under him, her thighs squeezing him for all they're worth. Of course, as things go on… Harry decides he wants a change in position. No point in letting that fine glamored ass of hers go to waste after all.
Pulling out of her, Harry grabs Rita by her hips and flips her over onto her front before she can react. Dragging her up onto her hands and knees, he thrusts into her from behind a moment later, making her cry out all over again and cum right then and there on his cock. Now fucking her doggystyle, he enjoys the way her plush, enlarged, heart-shaped backside feels as he drives into it with his hips.
At the same time, he doesn't have to stop molesting her tits either, leaning forward over her and grabbing her by her breasts as he really starts to go to town on her. Rita squeals and shrieks, creaming herself again and again upon his cock. If it wasn't for the privacy afforded by the Room of Requirement he would have been more worried about her giving them away. As it is though, Harry doesn't have to bother with silencing spells or anything like that. He can just focus on plowing Rita silly.
That said… well, even if she forgot, Harry isn't about to let their arrangement die so easily. Especially when the story of his Third Year was the one nearest and dearest to his heart. Admittedly, it had been a long, long time for Harry since Sirius Black died. In this timeline, he was still alive, but in the future, there had been many, many years between his demise and Harry traveling back in time.
But that didn't mean Harry didn't want Sirius exonerated. So long as the man was still on the run, he would remain under Dumbledore's thumb after all. And while Harry didn't hate Albus… he also saw the older wizard as an obstacle to his ultimate plans.
With that in mind, he begins to slow down even as he continues to jackhammer in and out of Rita's cunt. Reaching out, he grabs the blonde by her hair and yanks her head back, his other hand moving from her breast to her neck.
"You know Rita… you didn't even ask for a story before we got started today. Were you perhaps expecting me to pay up after I'd already received your services?"
Once his words penetrate through the haze of pleasure over Rita's mind, she freezes for a moment under him before responding.
"A-Ah… y-yes, that's it… that's it exactly."
Chuckling into her ear, Harry hums.
"But what reason would I have to give you anything when you've already given me everything I could desire, Rita?"
He makes sure to punctuate that sentence and her name with a powerful thrust, making Rita squeal as he drives deep inside of her. For a moment, she just pants breathless, unable to respond. But finally…
"B-Because… because you're a good man, H-Harry. I know… I know I can trust you."
He resists the urge to scoff or snort at that. It's a lame excuse, even worse than her earlier lie about wanting to 'protect' him. Regardless, he doesn't care.
"I suppose I'll tell you right now, Rita. So focus up. Because this time you're going to be doing something for me with this story, alright?"
"Ah… alright…"
"You're going to do your own due diligence for once. You're going to follow up on what I'm about to tell you. You're going to want to before you run this story, because frankly… it's a doozey. Understood?"
"Y-Yes… yes sir…"
Harry raises an eyebrow at that last word, but chalks it up to their current circumstances. He certainly has Rita in a compromising position worthy of a 'sir' right now.
"Good girl. Now listen carefully. Sirius Black wasn't my parents' Secret Keeper. That was Peter Pettigrew. And the reason that this never came to light, the reason that Sirius Black went to Azkaban for thirteen long years… was because he was never given a trial by the Ministry. The man who sentenced him to life imprisonment without a trial was Barty Crouch Senior. And the man who's testimony helped make that decision was Cornelius Fudge."
Rita has gone entirely still as he's speaking. Even through the haze of pleasure, his words have permeated. The depth of what he's saying has completely blindsided her. In some amusement, Harry pulls out of Rita and flips her back over one last time. As she gapes at him in shock, he goes ahead and blows his load all over her face and tits.
Of course, such magically-charged seed is too much for Rita to resist. Before she knows it, she's moaning and going to town on herself, scooping up his jizz and stuffing it into her mouth like it's the best thing she's ever tasted. Harry watches her for only a moment later before pulling away and getting off the bed, fixing up his robes as he goes.
"Don't forget, Rita! I want you to do your due diligence… and then I want you to hang them all out to dry for me!"
Rita's moans are all he hears in response as he leaves the Room of Requirement. But Harry isn't worried. She'll do as she's told. And next time they meet up… he'll finish what he started and bind her to him, magic and soul.