Word Count: 1900
Warning (highlight to view): For Millicent taking Harry by surprise and binding him, but this isn't dub-con fic.
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Summary: Harry engages in a little professional observation without realising that he's attracted the attention of others.
Bull Magiceuticals had been the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's top suspect for the distribution of not-quite-illegal-but-disruptive, mind-altering potions for some time, but none of the Aurors assigned to the case had been able to find a concrete connection between the troublesome potions flooding the underground market and the firm, which was, to all appearances, a reputable one. Harry doubted that it was, however, because the sort of gents he'd seen on Millicent Bulstrode's arm in the social pages since the potions had appeared weren't ones that he thought would fancy her without . . . assistance. He wasn't being unkind in his thoughts; it was just that Bulstrode, who'd become a curvy, handsome woman, seemed to favour willowy, useless sorts, much younger blokes who usually would have fled before the Junoesque, erotic brutality that she radiated.
From his vantage point on the balcony of the Gryphon's Foote, Harry could see her with one such bloke now, and he wondered, How is it that she doesn't break him?
As if Bulstrode could hear his thoughts, she looked up at his table and stared, her mouth curling into a half-smile, and licked her lips as if in challenge.
Harry shivered, and his cock stirred "under" Bulstrode's hot gaze. Fuck. He can't have any idea what to do with all that, Harry thought, adjusting his spectacles.
The little dial on the frames of his Omniocular-inspired specs made Bulstrode's assets appear even more . . . bountiful. He shook himself and turned back to his menu.
Stop gaping at her, you idiot. That's not the sort of observation you're supposed to be making here.
Ginny returned to the table. "Well, that was a waste of time. Marcus wouldn't tell me anything about her date."
Harry looked at her fondly. "Thanks for trying."
"You're welcome. Most bartenders enjoy telling me things, and you certainly couldn't have asked him. Besides, you never brought me to places like this when we were married."
"You were on the road with the Harpies a lot of the time."
"I wasn't sniping, Harry, just making an observation—much as you seem to be doing."
"Oh, I'm just teasing. Hell, how could anyone not stare at those tits the way she's got them piled up?"
Just then, a paper bird fluttered to their table and dropped down next to Harry's plate.
"Interesting," Ginny said.
Harry unfolded the bird, reading aloud, "'I'll be shot of Bertram by ten. Do come by my office if you'd like a closer look'."
Ginny giggled. "Isn't she bold, inviting you 'in' and all?"
"You jealous?" Harry asked.
"No, but I suppose I should look the part, given how indiscreet you've obviously been." Ginny rose, winked, and made a show of pouring her wine over Harry's head before stalking off.
A waiter rushed forward to spell him clean and dry before Ginny got six paces away.
"Thank you," Harry said, relieved to remember that the Gryphon's Foote had anti-photography wards in place; he didn't need the kids seeing a picture of their mother "fighting" with him. "I think I'd like the cheque, please."
"Very good, sir."
Bull Magiceuticals' offices were quite near the restaurant, so Harry elected to walk to them rather than Disapparating there. It gave him enough time to consider the case he wasn't quite working. As the Head of the DMLE, it was within his purview to monitor cases, of course, but as Bulstrode obviously knew he'd been watching her, he doubted she'd give him the opportunity to find anything significant in her offices.
But she can't really want me, can she? he thought. I'm clearly not her type.
And that was vanity on his part, but even though he wasn't often in the field anymore, he did keep himself fit, and he knew that he was much more a witch like Bulstrode's speed than her current escort.
She couldn't break me, but it would be fun to let her try.
He shook himself.
Idiot. You really should have let Luna fix you up. It's been too long since—
The unexpected sound of Apparation made Harry draw his wand.
"Settle down, Potter. It's only ickle me," Bulstrode said, sarcastically.
"Do you always welcome guests of your firm in person?"
"No, only the nosy ones. And I have to say, I'm becoming bored by the attention. Bull Magiceuticals has nothing to do with the hallucinatory crap that's being peddled on the street. Why would we? We're the third most successful firm in magical Britain."
"Which is why," Harry said, taking Bulstrode's arm and leading her down the street, "I'm curious about you. Your firm's got the facilities to brew the—"
"We're hardly the only brewers who could manage Happy Drops, Potter, and I would say that it's not the potion's fault so many wizarding marriages are crumbling, of late. It's arseholes who can't keep it in their pants."
"You have no legal reason to ask me to do that, and I've no intention of opening myself up to a potential loss of trade secrets." Bulstrode withdrew her arm and turned to rake her gaze over him.
Harry was surprised to see the sadness in it.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I—mmrph!"
Kissing Bulstrode was like being devoured, and Harry, who'd been half-hard since he'd first seen her in the Gryphon's Foote, felt himself swell to leaking hardness as she grasped his arse and pulled him against her.
"You like this?" she asked.
"You think it's because of some spell?"
Harry reached into Bulstrode's robes to cup one of her breasts. "It's because of this," he told her hoarsely, moving his other hand up to cup the breast's twin. "And this. Where can we go?"
Smirking, she whispered against his mouth, "You're a terrible Auror, Potter."
Harry was still reeling from Bulstrode's Side-Along Apparation when they appeared in a bedroom—and he was disarmed, nude, and bound to the bed before he could get his bearings.
"What the fuck are—oh, gods."
"The little leather straps work wonders on eager wizards, don't they?" Bulstrode asked, as Harry felt his bollocks being separated by animate cording.
It wrapped around the base of his prick and stilled, and all Harry could do was remember to breathe.
"Now then, you can't Disapparate, and my bonds won't break unless I want them to. You're helpless, Harry. I could do anything to you. I could break you."
Has to be some sort of enchantment, Harry thought, struggling and wondering how the hell Bulstrode had managed it; he was never so easily caught.
"Gods but you look pretty like that," Bulstrode said, stroking her breasts through her robes. "I'm going to enjoy this."
"You'll never get—"
"Away with it?" Bulstrode laughed. "What a cliché you are, Auror Harry," she mocked, while slowly sliding her robes off to reveal that she hadn't been wearing anything else but a pair of sleek, thigh-high dragon-hide boots.
"Perhaps, but not yet. You deserve to be punished for harassing me, I think."
Bulstrode Summoned a chair and sat in it, murmuring a spell that set it to levitating before him at the end of the bed—and then she sucked a finger into her mouth to fellate it before sliding it down between her breasts, over her belly, and then into her cunt.
Harry's mouth fell open.
Bulstrode teased herself with that finger, pulling it out of her cunt to caress her folds, dipping it back inside, pulling it out to massage her clit, and then repeating the process, and all the while pinching and slapping her magnificent breasts. Harry didn't know where to look; he wanted to see everything.
"In case you're wondering," she said, plunging three fingers into her cunt and working it a bit before raising her hand to suck on them, "I taste wonderful."
Harry whimpered. "Bulstrode, please, let me—"
"Go?" she asked, throwing her head back as she arched into her clever fingers.
Harry had never wanted to be a finger so much in his life before.
"—fuck you!" he cried, thrashing against his bonds.
"That's . . . no way . . . to talk," Bulstrode panted, "to a pil—lar of . . . the business . . . community!"
Sweating now, his cock so hard it hurt, Harry tried to toss back his damp, interfering fringe so that he could see her more clearly. "N—no, let me fuck you."
"You . . . oh! You don't . . . you don't deserve . . . to fuck me!" she shouted, shuddering as she came.
The sight of her so abandoned was too much for Harry. "Fuck, ohgodspleasetakeitof—off, off, off, o—oh, FUCK!" he exclaimed, as the cording around his shaft and balls relaxed and he came so hard that the stars shooting behind his clenched eyes exploded brightly into darkness.
When Harry woke up, he was cold, cold, unbound, and sore in a way that he could only love. "Bulstrode?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, covered in his own drying semen.
Glancing at the table beside the bed, he saw a note and reached for it eagerly.
Three things, Potter—
One: When you have yourself tested, you'll find yourself free of any potion. Two: Don't even think about bringing charges against me, not that a father like you would ever dream of doing something so indiscreet; you did accept my invitation, after all. Three: I know you enjoyed the show, but that's all you're ever going to have from me because, as I said, you suspicious prick, you don't deserve to fuck me.
Mortified, Harry wandlessly set the note to burning, yelping as the ashes bit at his thighs.
He supposed he understood why Bulstrode was offended. But she's got another thing coming if she thinks I'll leave her be after all that!
While Harry was busy collecting himself, Millicent was meeting a friend for a late spot of tea.
"And how did things go?" Luna asked, pouring.
Millicent grinned. "He's so pretty, Lu. Stupid, but pretty."
Luna laughed. "All men are stupid when they're bored and horny."
"Well, I didn't leave him bored, but I expect he's got a real 'horn' for me, now."
"Good. Harry's needed a challenge for some time, now—ever since he and Ginny signed the divorce papers, in fact."
"Anything for a friend," Millicent told her, taking a sip of her tea. "How's business?"
"The Happy Drops brand seems to have developed quite a following, but then, that's not a surprise. There are a lot of bored, horny men, aren't there?"
"I expect George Weasley isn't one of them," replied Millicent.
"Oh, no, Mills. George is too devoted to product-testing to be either of those things." Luna took a bite of cake and chewed it slowly before asking, "Are you really never going to allow Harry to fuck you? I know you thought he'd never look at you without Amortentia, but that's obviously not the case."
"Did I say that?" Millicent asked.
"You know you did, and it made me sad."
Millicent snorted. "Well, I've got over it now. . . . Ever seen Potter's cock?"
Luna flushed. "Not that he knows."
"Ha!" exclaimed Millicent. "You'll have to tell me about that, sometime, but as far as letting Potter fuck me goes, let's just say that I have every intention of fucking him—as soon as he's earned the right to my attention!"
Pleased with each other, Luna and Millicent spent the rest of the evening grinning over the teacups. . . . Harry, on the other hand, went home and wanked himself raw.