"You're such a fucking slut," Tonks whispered, her voice tight with disbelief and something else she couldn't name. Her eyes were locked on the obscene sight before her—Harry's cock sliding in and out of Petunia's dripping cunt. The older woman's body was flushed, trembling, and her lips hung open in a dazed moan.
Tonks's own chest rose sharply, her breasts straining against her Auror robes, and her hair flashed into a vivid, uncontrollable pink.
Harry caught the subtle hitch in her breath, the way her thighs instinctively pressed together. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He wondered how long she'd last—whether she'd bolt for the door or fall to her knees and beg to join.
"I know," Petunia moaned, her voice sultry and breathless. She rocked her hips, angling his cock deeper inside her aching folds. "That's why he has to fuck me… to keep my filthy little hole stuffed and obedient."
Tonks swallowed hard. She looked between Harry and the woman , horror and fascination warring in her expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came.
Harry met her gaze coolly. "Sorry," he said, with not a shred of remorse in his tone. "We're just… physically affectionate. You caught us mid-session. I left her tied to the stool before I came out to meet you—bit rude of me, I know." He shrugged, still slowly pumping into Petunia without missing a beat. "But anyway… Ron filed that complaint against me. I gave you my statement. So—what now?"
Tonks still managed, somehow, to shoot him a look that screamed, Are you out of your bloody mind?—even as her legs shifted restlessly and her wand hand trembled.
"Well?" Harry asked, thrusting again, his expression maddeningly calm.
Nymphadora Tonks exhaled softly, then lowered her wand and leaned back onto the couch with slow, deliberate calm. One leg crossed elegantly over the other as her eyes shifted—not to the floor, not to the door—but directly from Petunia's flushed, wanton form to Harry.
"It depends," she said smoothly, voice steady despite the carnal spectacle before her. "Are you, perchance, familiar with a Pensieve?"
Harry gave a nod, his tone even. "I have one in my study." The Potters had kept one in their vault, likely untouched for decades. He'd recovered it not long ago and had it installed in his home. It turned out these grotesquely overpriced artifacts were practically a badge of honor among old pureblood families—another tool of memory, and a quiet flex of wealth.
His hands slid up to Petunia's breasts, squeezing them roughly. She let out another moan, wanton and unfiltered.
"You want to view my memories of the event?" he asked, not missing a beat.
"Maybe. Maybe not," Tonks replied, scribbling notes on her parchment. "Depends on what the Minister decides." The quill scratched across the pad steadily. "For now, I'm logging that you're open to providing the memories. Unless Ron Weasley disputes your account with one of his own, this will likely be considered an open-and-shut case."
Harry couldn't help but admire her—this level of composure, in the middle of what was essentially a surreal erotic farce, spoke volumes about her mental discipline. Even the wild fluctuations in her hair and body were gradually settling back to normal, the chaotic magic within her simmering down.
He wondered idly if she was using Occlumency to suppress the arousal, to force her focus onto the professional matter at hand.
Harry brought his hand down sharply, smacking Petunia's right breast with a loud slap, the impact making her gasp and arch against him. "Open and shut case indeed," he said dryly, as if the obscene gesture was merely punctuation to his point.
Tonks visibly winced—whether from the sound, the brazenness, or the sheer absurdity of it all wasn't clear—but she kept her composure. Barely. She avoided looking at Petunia altogether now, doing her best to block out the wet, rhythmic moans still spilling from her mouth.
With a flick of her wand, the hovering quill drooped mid-sentence and stilled. The scroll stopped recording.
Tonks nodded stiffly, standing up abruptly. "Uhm, that's all. I'll... I'll just take my leave now," she stammered, clearly shaken by the unfolding events.
Harry didn't let her leave just yet. He reached out, gripping Petunia's chin firmly, making her tilt her head up to meet his gaze. "How about I join you after I see her off?" he asked, his voice low and calm, despite the chaos.
Petunia stood with a quiet sigh, then turned to leave the room, but not before shooting Tonks a sly, knowing grin as she passed her.
Harry couldn't help but comment, his eyes following Petunia's retreating figure. "She's rather feisty," he mused, clearly amused. "You'll have to forgive her. She got a little testy with how I left things earlier. Hearing me talk with another woman probably made her a bit... competitive."
Tonks laughed awkwardly, her gaze darting between Harry and woman , still trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. "Yeah, I can see that. But, uh, I should really go now. Thanks for... indulging me without prior notice." Her eyes flickered down briefly, landing on his crotch before quickly pulling away, as if the sight had startled her.
Harry waved her discomfort off dismissively, the usual cocky grin on his face. "No problem at all,"
Tonks lingered for a beat longer, then tilted her head with a small smirk. "Was it part of the foresight to have me flustered with your little act with the girl?"
"Not really," Harry admitted with a shrug. "Preparation's great and all, but I do enjoy a bit of improvisation now and then."
He leaned back slightly, the shift in tone obvious. "Anyway, back to business—what are my options with Ron's complaint?"
Tonks fidgeted slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the shift. "Honestly? I'm not sure I'm the best person to give you legal advice."
Harry's expression softened. "I'm just asking as a friend."
That made her blink. Her eyes met his, surprise flickering across her face. "Friend, huh?" she echoed, then gave a small, resigned chuckle. "Well, as a friend, I'd suggest you get yourself a solicitor. Preferably a pureblood one, if you catch my drift."
"Any recommendations?"
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Depends."
"Normally, someone in your position would hire a secretary or steward—whatever title you prefer. Someone who's got experience managing affairs and a solid grasp of magical law, business dealings, contracts... that sort of thing. Gringotts could even do the hiring for you if you're looking for someone very specific."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "But you already have someone in mind."
Tonks hesitated. "I do…" Her tone dipped slightly. "And given your… proclivities, she'd fit in right at home. I'm just wondering if it's a good idea."
Harry blinked, not quite sure if she was serious. "You mean…?"
"My friend Hestia Jones," she said finally. "She's in-between jobs right now. Half-blood—pureblood mother, Muggle father. Kind of like me."
That caught his interest. Hestia Jones. A name he recognized from the Order of the Phoenix. In the books, she hadn't really stood out, a background member, active post-Voldemort's return. Which meant she and Tonks were both still early in their careers—fresh faces not yet tangled in Dumbledore's web.
And if he could recruit her before the chessboard was set?
"Blood doesn't matter," Harry said smoothly. "And she's good?"
"Best I've ever seen," Tonks replied without hesitation. "Ravenclaw. Rose through the ranks fast enough to become Crouch's assistant in under a year. Sharp, efficient, no-nonsense—exactly the kind of witch you'd want for secretary work. Maybe even as your right-hand woman, if you're up for it."
She paused, then added with a slight grimace, "Though I should warn you—she's got quite a fiery personality."
.
"I'll remember that. If you want, I can get a rental drawn for you too, Miss Tonks. Say, payable after you get your promotion?"
She smirked. "First this Woman better don't know the name of her ; and for all I know, you'll be bedding my friend. And you're still lobbying for more? You're a greedy one."
I snickered, and took another sip. "Greed is good, and its name is Harry Potter."
She laughed. "That might be, but Mr. Potter–"
"Harry."
She smiled. "I'll stick to Mr. Potter. As a young, unmarried woman and given what you are…"
She paused.
"Aaand?"
"I don't want to be crude about it, but given what happened earlier…" she brought her lips closer to my ears. "I don't wish to be one of your conquests, Harry Potter. It's bad enough that anyone that hears my name automatically thinks of sex, and that's without confirming my ability."
Damn this wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. Still, the hunt would make the feast even better. And given what the prize was….
"I totally understand, but the offer stands." "I'll remember it."
She glanced at my crotch again. "And the manner in which it was given.
And with that, she walked out of the apartment, idly whistling a tune as she left, swaying her ass as she did.
Damn.