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I walked into my guest-room and found Emmeline sprawled on a recliner. Emmeline apparently regarded a throw pillow as something to throw and bounced it off my chest.
"About time, Harry," she murmured. "We were about to send a search party."
"How absolutely mugglish," I retorted. "Don't think I didn't notice your perverse preoccupation with my underwear."
Hestia, who was sitting on the floor, blinked twice. "Say what about your underwear?"
"Emmeline decided that I couldn't be trusted to keep my head on my shoulders without either of you present so she charmed my underwear." I rolled my eyes at the Oblivator who looked sheepish. "Just for the record, I have some skill with magical sensing."
"Noted," said Hestia. "But what took you so long?"
I let Emmeline perform the needful diagnostics first and ward the room shut, doubling checking for disillusionment charms and invisible entities within the room.
"Anastasia and I reached an amicable agreement. It's exactly what our original deal was, with just one extra addendum."
"Which is?"
I smiled, but didn't say anything.
"Oh I know that smile," said Emmeline. "Don't tell me you already have her charmed."
"Okay," I said in the blandest way possible. "I won't tell you."
Hestia regarded me with wide eyes. "You're not serious."
"No," I said. "Sirius was my godfather." At her groan, I laughed. "Some people use gold, others use connections, and I use Lust. So far, my method has proven to be quite reliable."
"Harry," Hestia frowned at me, and I realised she was actually upset by my flippancy. Not just annoyed, or unhappy with my response, but genuinely offended. The look on her face told me that the conversation had just taken a turn to the serious. "Anastasia is not just another woman for you to fuck, Harry. She's married to Broderick."
"As was Emmeline to Gideon, but she doesn't hold that against me."
"I don't," said Emmeline off-handedly, observing her nails.
Hestia gave me the closest expression to a scowl. "That's different. She and Gideon didn't exactly have a happy relationship. And you… I mean, all of this started because of…"
"Lecherous Shrine," I said, noticing her slight hesitation. Hestia was still conflicted about the role she had played in twisting Emmeline's psyche. "She knew the risks, and decided it was worth it. You know everything that happened, Hestia."
My secretary narrowed her eyes and glared at me. "You know exactly what I mean, Harry."
"Okay, why is this suddenly about me?" asked Emmeline. "Yes, I'm married to Gideon, and he has demonstrated an acute lack of interest in me beyond the needful."
"Only because he prefers little girls," I quipped.
Hestia scowled deeper this time, but did not comment on that. Instead she narrowed her eyes on me. "That might be, but Anastasia's different. I've talked with her. She genuinely loves Broderick, and is loyal to him. You, twisting her emotions like that is… that is wrong, Harry. Very wrong."
Pot, meet kettle. I wanted to say. On the other hand, it was interesting to note that being a Lilim did not rob Hestia of her beliefs or her ideas about right and wrong.
"I've done my research. Broderick Greengrass is a sonofabitch that should be thrown into Azkaban, but he is a loving husband to his wife. He treats his younger daughter like she's the pearl of his eye. His relationship with the elder one is difficult, but not strenuous, and that's not because he mistreats her."
"Wow," Emmeline muttered. "You really did do your homework this time around."
Hestia looked at me evenly. "Not everyone is Lucius Malfoy and Gideon Abbott, Harry."
I smiled. "I know."
"Then —"
"Remember what I told you back then Hestia," I said, meeting her eye. "I told you that I'll become the nightmare that Wizarding Britain has never imagined. I'll destroy the Wizengamot, take the bigotry inherent in the system, andri[ it out, even if I have to destroy Wizarding society in the process."
"Throw it in another war," Hestia mumbled. "I remember. And I swore to be on your side, Harry. But if you are going to just twist people's minds and hearts to do your bidding, then we're no different from those we're fighting."
"I know," I said, looking away from her. "I never said it will be neat. Because it won't. It'll be difficult, but someone has to get it done. But when history is written, there is always someone paying the price."
"Even if they are innocents?"
"Oh bully for you," Emmeline interrupted, glaring at Hestia. "Grow up, girl. Wars are not about who's right, but who's left. You know how the war ended in Harry's future. What are some broken marriages compared to that?"
"You're telling me that, you—"
"I urged him to make a move on Anastasia," Emmeline proclaimed. "The old families control the Wizengamot, and having the Ladies on our side will give us both power, intel and votes. Some Lords we can control, and some, will just have to go."
Hestia looked at Emmeline like she was seeing her for the first time.
"Destiny is always written in blood, Hestia," said Emmeline, her tone as hard as steel. "You've grown from that idealist kid with tearful eyes that I met at my courtyard, yet in some ways, I see you haven't changed at all."
Hestia scowled. "We joined the Order to fight against the Dark, not —"
"Not what, Hestia?" I asked, glaring at how absurdly hypocritical my secretary was being. "Not twisting people against their wishes?"
Hestia staggered back, as if slapped.
"This is war, Hestia," I barked. "And in a war, sometimes things just need to be done. Did you think that killing Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters would be enough? No Hestia, we need to resolve the entire bigotry issue decisively and thoroughly. And that means a systematic purge of all elements that are against us, both in the government, the legislature and the military wings."
For a split second, I saw a flicker of something pass over Hestia's face.
"What if… what if there are those that do not want to go that way? The Order of the Phoenix was created to gather information and help people, not kill them."
"They help people by winning the war and tearing bigotry by their very roots," I claimed coldly. "Whatever losses the population bears now, can you really say it means anything compared to the thousands that will lead happier lives in the future?"
"But —"
I held out a hand. "If it means anything, Anastasia made the first move. Broderick wanted her to get me to sign the deal, and when all transactions failed, she offered herself to me."
"Oh boy," said Emmeline drolly. "Do not tell me that a little skin show was enough for you to settle."
"You wish. She probably expected to show a little skin, a little touch here and there, and the little boy would fold backwards to impress her." She smirked knowingly at my expression. "Guess she mistook her opponent."
"She, err… offered to sleep with you?" asked Hestia, though she seemed a lot less certain of herself while she did so. "Harry," she said, her tone a lot softer. "So does that mean she's now a—"
"Not a Lilim," I vanquished her concerns. "But yeah, we had sex. Now, did you find out who was the mystery person behind last night's shenanigans?"
Emmeline and Hestia looked at each other, before meeting my eyes.
" Daphne," said both women together.
I blinked. Daphne huh? That girl had felt like a jar of flobberworms right off the start. Something about her just rubbed me the wrong way.
"What happened? She wanted to make sure I wasn't an imposter and ended up enjoying my cum?"
Emmeline looked particularly solemn. "It's not a joking matter, Harry. Yes, we know that it's her, but we don't have a single shred of evidence against her. This is her house, and there is absolutely no evidence that we found that hair in this room. She was here, and she knows exactly what she holds above my… above our heads, and she had no issues letting us know that."
"A power play," I murmured. "Have you considered obliviating her?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't risk it," she admitted. "Knowing her, she probably left all kinds of clues to remember what we made her forget. So unless you are a dab hand at the Imperius —"
Hestia and I did our best not to look at each other.
"— I even threw her a bone about how her father wanted to marry her off to you," said Emmeline, oblivious to our inner thoughts. "I thought she'd use the information to get out of this impending marriage agreement. Instead… instead she agreed to it, and it makes no sense."
"Hold your horses, Emmeline," said Hestia, looking cautious. "You make it sound like you'rer actually scared of this girl."
"Because I am," said the Head Obliviator. "All this time, I thought Harry was just a precocious sixteen-year-old trying to swim with the sharks. But now, it isn't Gideon or Broderick that presents a danger to you. It's Daphne Greengrass."
I cocked my head. Before I could say anything, she went on.
"Harry," said Emmeline. "Daphne's not your common witch. She's what you call an Empath."
"As in, someone that can sense your emotions?"
Emmeline laughed. "Daphne doesn't just sense emotions, Harry. She feeds on them. An emotion vampire. My best guess is that she can accurately perceive how our emotions affect us, and no amount of Occlumency can actually prevent her from reading them and telling the truth from lies. Even her mind is built so differently that it can fool most Legilimens into losing themselves within its endless labyrinth of emotions. She can… play us against ourselves."
I just… stared. Something like that would be incredibly useful on my side, if not a perk. Knowing my luck, there was more to this… Empathy that Daphne could do once she better developed them. That just left the question — why did Broderick treat her like an unwanted extra? Why not actually use her talents for his benefit, unless —
It clicked.
"So that's why Anastasia was so willing to sign Daphne away as part of a betrothal."
"'Xcuse me?" asked Emmeline.
I smiled. "Later. For now, I need you to go to the Ministry and inform your husband that he has a meeting with Regent Longbottom next week. I imagine he is going to be really happy about that one. Oh, and I'd really love it if you stayed back to help your husband help his best friend make a decision."
"Really Harry," said the Obliviator, scowling. "I had expected you to help me find proof against that traitor, and instead you're making him happy."
I laughed. "Oh, not necessary. Why, you might even enjoy it."
"She got Harry Potter to sign the agreement."
Sometimes, his wife's ability to manage situations frightened him.
"...how?"
"Emmeline told me Anastasia met Potter for their scheduled meeting, and he signed the deal. Exactly what it was. One year of Phyllida, with all revenues going to Potter. In return, he backdates the agreement by two months. Just as we wanted. Oh, and a potential slot for your eldest daughter as one of his wives, though the exact position is unclear, and subject to change."
"...and what did it cost?"
A brief pause. "He wants permission to have sex with someone we know."
"You… you're joking. Gideon, you're telling me that Harry fucking Potter, the heir to the Potter fortune, is going with this stupid deal, just to get permission to fuck a girl?"
"...Yes."
"Which girl?"
"That's… kind of the problem," said Gideon, hesitant to meet his eye. "He… he wants your permission to fuck your wife."
"...Gideon."
"Broderick," said his friend sternly. "We're neck deep with this mess. Lucius is abroad, and we don't even know if he will be back by the World Cup. Robards is breathing down our necks, and the only thing that can get us bailed from this shitstorm is to accept Potter's ridiculously simple demand. You know as well as I that there is nothing we can do if Potter decides to walk away. You'll be sent to Azkaban, and Robards will freeze your assets and start looking. And if they find anything on me then…"
"So you're just saving your arse."
"That's what we do, Broderick," Gideon snapped. "I scratch your back, you scratch mine. But we make sure to cover our individual arses first when shit hits the fan. You want loyalty, look elsewhere. Look, Potter has fame, resources and a solid backing from Albus Dumbledore. But he's fairly young, and naive. He's crafty, but not as much as he thinks he is. He lacks experience. I imagine Anastasia had to show a little skin, and he got infatuated with her. Imagine what if he wanted to double, or worse, triple the time period he got Phyllida for free? You'd be out on the street, Broderick."
"...you're not the one prostituting your wife, Gideon."
"Oh, grow up," Gideon snapped. "I know this looks bad. But we've to realise we're dealing with a hot-blooded young man, and your wife's extremely good on the eyes. I calculate nothing but positives from this, and only negatives if you reject this offer."
"I swear I'm going to punch you in the face. You're asking me to let him fuck my wife behind my back."
"Err…" said Gideon, looking a little disgruntled. "Actually, his exact request is that you grant him permission to fuck his wife before your eyes, and I quote this, let him play out a fantasy that he's a better lover than you are, to your wife."
Broderick clenched his fists. "That nasty little fucker! When I get my hands on him —"
"You will do nothing," Gideon snapped. "Listen Broderick, I know this sounds weird, but it's just one night. And Potter is just a kid. There is no way he can compare to yourself. If anything, you should be proud of your wife. She must have been so repulsed by the offer."
"But she still accepted it."
"For your sake."
Broderick grit his teeth. He bit hard and resisted the urge to swear. He had perfectly estimated how difficult it would be for Anastasia to get Potter to agree to the deal, but had never estimated that things would take this turn.
"Look," Gideon said softly. "This happens behind doors. Just the two of you and… him. No other witnesses. Once and done. Over. Let the boy live out his fantasy. Anastasia might have to fake it for a minute, but he'll probably realise it and feel humiliated, and walk away. You and your wife will have a laugh over it."
"But he'll still touch her. That slimy bastard —"
"Oh for Merlin's sake," snapped his friend. "Stop acting like a kid. You fuck around floozies all the time. It's an open secret what happens in those kitty parties that the Ladies of Ancient Houses take part in. How is this any different?"
"That is that, and this is this. Anastasia did not choose to—"
"I'd say she did," offered Gideon. "She made an offer and he agreed. He put up a condition and she agreed. That's why you have this document attested by Gringotts."
"Gideon —"
"I'm just giving you the facts, Broderick. Don't forget why you started this. You want Daphne to be married to him, and everything that follows."
"The last thing I want is that sonofabitch anywhere near my family."
"No, you will," said Gideon sternly, something terrible in his eyes. "You will let this happen, and you will marry your daughter to him. Broderick, I want you to remember this day, and this deal, and make sure to remind him of this, when you finally slit his throat."
Broderick just stared.
"So," asked Gideon. "Are we going ahead with this agreement or not?"
Several hours later when Broderick Floo'd into his manor, he was surprised at how silent everything was. There was no one downstairs. No sounds from the kitchen. No Daphne lazily listening to the Wireless. No Anastasia bouncing around, always working on something. No nothing. He knew that Emmeline was with Gideon, but not even Potter or his damned halfblood secretary was around.
Potter… Just thinking of that little shit made his blood boil. But that was fine. He should've known that the entire thing wouldn't go without a hitch. He'd obliviate Anastasia of the experience, but he himself would remember it. And when it was time, he'd have his vengeance.
Even if that meant having to smile and go ahead with his depraved fantasy.
Busy in his thoughts, Broderick summoned a bottle of water from the kitchen, and as he silently sipped it, he sensed a presence near him, and when he saw it, he nearly choked.
Anastasia was padding towards him, barefoot, only wearing a silky, midnight blue robe. Her body was covered with sweat and her robe was half-closed, meaning her boobs were just spilling out. Her hair looked like a mess and her makeup was a bit smudged.
"Anastasia, cover yourself up. This is no way of dressing when guests are around." he barked, nodding at her half-exposed breasts.
"Oh," she said with surprise., clenching her robe shut. "Sorry."
He looked at her, confused. "What's going on?"
"Oh," said Anastasia, as if she suddenly realised what a mess she was. "I was working with Potter all day. You wouldn't believe how interested he is in herbology. He mentioned dealing with a venomous tentacula before, and one thing led to another, we were tending to the one I purchased last winter. And things just… went out of hand."
A shiver ran down his spine. "...Out of hand?"
"Yeah, I swear it's a mystery how he's kept himself in that great shape. He single handedly held the tentacula back while I tended to its leaves," she said with a laugh. "But I was just about to hop in the shower. We just finished up, so…" she trailed off.
Suddenly, Harry Potter walked into the kitchen, his fit, muscular body covered in sweat as well. Broderick noticed how he was dressed in just a vest and shorts, and arched his brow. His wife and Potter, both barely clothed, both covered in sweat… if it was anyone but Anastasia, he'd have been worried that she had been up to something bad. He knew of the deal they were about to have, but the rules were explicit. And plus, this was Anastasia, his wife, utterly loyal to him, as she had proven over the years. And Harry Potter was the little boy that had blackmailed her, no, them into going through his perverted fantasy.
No, he was reading too much into it. Anastasia was easily psyched about magical plants, and perhaps the brat did know his stuff and shared common interests. She must have gotten excited. Or perhaps, she was just getting more used to being in the boy's presence to soothe out the horrendous experience that would soon follow.
"Ah, Broderick," said Harry Potter. "I heard you got into a little mess at the Ministry."
Anger flared within him. "...yes. I'm glad you helped me out, Mr. Potter, but I didn't expect such lowly behaviour from you."
His boldness caught the boy by surprise, who looked like he expected a lot of talking around the subject. He raised an eyebrow. "Please, tell me what you really think."
Anastasia put a hand on Broderick's wrist, giving him a pleading look before turning back to Potter. "I apologise on behalf of my husband. It is unfair of him to show such a reaction after agreeing to the deal in the first place."
"No offence taken, Anastasia," said Harry Potter, and Broderick narrowed his eyes once more. "I can totally understand the respect and love of a husband. I understand his reservations but honestly, I'd have thought he'd be happy."
"You want me to be happy about…" began Broderick heatedly, before one sharp look from his wife made him lower his voice to respectable levels. "You want me to happy about letting you fuck my wife?"
"Yes, I am offering you a way out. Your wife is quite beautiful, Mister Greengrass, and as much as I'm hesitant to admit it, when she approached me wearing that beautiful sundress, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. It's a relatively easy way out for you, in exchange for me having to deal with potential backlash over the Phyllida issue with the DMLE. Of course, if you are in two minds about it, we can always ..."
"NO!" bellowed Anastasia, giving Broderick a sharp look that told him not to be stupid. "We have had such a productive evening at the greenhouse, Potter. We will go through this too. You are a young man, and it's natural that you find an adult body far more tantalising than someone of your age. We… we are not cancelling the agreement."
Broderick tilted his head slightly. Gideon was right. The brat was a greenhorn and possibly a virgin. He had gotten excited and tried to take advantage of this opportunity. Too bad he didn't think too far about the consequences of his decisions.
Still…
"You realise I could take this to the press?"
Potter raised an eyebrow. "And then what? Will you tell them how you're committing a fraud by backdating a trade by two months? Or perhaps how you are only loaning me the deed to Phyllida for a year's worth of time to save your arse from being chewed by Auror Robards? Or will you try to explain why your wife even agreed to this and drafted an agreement, attested by Gringotts which, by the way, you signed?"
Broderick's face hardened.
"You can try to play the disappointment card as much as you want, Mr. Greengrass, but we both know that this is an under-the-table deal. The only reason you agreed to hand over Phyllida is not out of the goodness of your heart, but to save your sorry arse. You make this public? Sure, there will be blood in the water and the sharks will come. But I think they'll find one of them far tastier than the other."
"Alright, that's enough," claimed Anastasia, though her words did nothing to stop him from glaring at the perverted brat. She looked him in the eye. "Alright. Broderick. This is what is going to happen. You needed this deal, and you needed Potter to get you out of this mess. He offered me a proposal, and as degrading as it is, I can go ahead with it, if it helps my husband. Now unless you want to break the contract and be declared an oath-breaker by the House of Potter, I suggest you make nice with him. Right away."
The flinch was minuscule, but it was there. Broderick closed his mouth and looked at his wife, as if seeing her for the first time. Anastasia had always done what he had asked her to. So where did this strong, dominating woman come from?
What was he missing?
"Broderick?"
He closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them again, he noticed both Potter and his wife were looking at him expectantly.
"All… alright. I suppose you can meet with my wife in one of the guestrooms after dinner and get it done with. Speaking of that, this… fantasy of yours —"
"Oh, it's rather simple," said Harry Potter. "You see, I don't just want to fuck your wife. I want to show her that I can give her the best fuck of her life. With you present and watching."
Broderick's eyes twitched.