LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 2: Galatea & Hermione
“You’ve made the right decision by agreeing to work with us, Mr. Potter. I can assure you of that.”
Making a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, Harry just nods in agreement with the new Minister of Magic. Rufus Scrimgeour was the wizard’s name, and he gave off the appearance of a rather old lion. Stern and disciplined, he’d apparently started out as an Auror and spent much of his life fighting Dark Wizards. Now, he was Fudge’s replacement, and he’d come to The Burrow personally on Christmas Day, just to ask Harry to visibly align himself with them.
Honestly, none of the aforementioned factoids about the new Minister of Magic endeared Harry to the man in the slightest. He’d very nearly been ready to say no, revolted in large part by the Ministry’s overall hypocrisy. As far as he was concerned, Voldemort and his Death Eaters might have been malicious and evil, but the Ministry of Magic in and of itself was inept and incompetent to the degree that they weren’t even worth his time.
It was Galatea who had ultimately changed his mind on that point, after his first dismissal of Scrimgeour’s request. It was Galatea who had convinced him differently, had forced him to ultimately accept the Ministry’s offer to be their mascot. It was all thanks to Galatea that Harry was in this room today, sitting across from Minister Scrimgeour to discuss just what sort of form his public support of the Ministry in these trying times might take.
Not that anyone knew Galatea was the one behind all these things. Harry had kept the beautiful blonde secret from his friends and associates, so he certainly wasn’t about to reveal her existence to people like the Minister who he saw as borderline enemies. Instead, he’d given her his Invisibility Cloak, and even now she was with him, her presence ghosting across the back of his neck.
The Invisibility Cloak really was an amazing device. The fact that it could go places that it shouldn’t have been able to go had never really registered for Harry before. It had allowed him access to the Forbidden Section of the Hogwarts Library, but it was only now that he’d snuck Galatea into the Ministry of Magic itself under the damn thing that he was beginning to wonder just how special his cloak might be.
Either that, or both Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic were even more horribly incompetent then he thought. Because… there were supposed to be wards in place to stop this kind of infiltration, right? Or at least, that was what made sense to Harry. Instead, his Invisibility Cloak allowed Galatea to float right into the heart of the Ministry, into the Office of the Minister of Magic himself.
It wasn’t inaccurate to say that Harry’s blonde lover could kill Rufus Scrimgeour before he got another word out of his mouth. If she wanted to, she could tear this entire place apart beneath his Invisibility Cloak, and apparently no one would know where it was coming from until it was too late. It was a heady feeling, realizing that the cloak had that much power… alternatively, it was a dark and terrible feeling, realizing that whatever magics protected Hogwarts and the Ministry were so wholly inadequate.
Regardless, Galatea had explained to Harry that so long as he maintained this Lone Wolf outlook on life, he would remain a Lone Wolf until his inevitable demise. She’d listened as he’d ranted and raved to her about his life… she’d listened quite well in fact, taking everything that he had to say about his circumstances and assimilating and processing the information in no time at all. She’d asked questions that made it clear she’d heard what he was saying too, questions Harry had been happy to answer, even if those answers were usually more than a little bitter and self-righteously angry.
And then Galatea had told him in that blunt tone of hers that none of it mattered. So what if the Ministry had tried to kill his godfather without a trial in his Third Year. So what if they’d held a frankly dangerous and idiotic tournament in his Fourth Year that had directly led to Harry’s capture and forced used in a ritual that brought Voldemort back. So what if they’d even refused to believe in Voldemort’s return, branding Harry a liar and a fraud for the entirety of his Fifth Year. So what if they’d then spent his Sixth Year with their heads in the sand, no one even bothering to kick Fudge out until AFTER Dumbledore died.
As Galatea had put it, she didn’t expect Harry to forget or to forgive. She’d been almost menacing as she’d talked about vengeance for him and his friends. Those who had wronged them would get what was coming to them, she’d assured him of that, so long as he allowed her to help. But… Galatea seemed to be well-aware that at the end of the day, the most important thing for Harry to do, was find a way to turn the masses against his enemies.
Put simply, yes he’d been ostracized by the Wizarding World far too many times for him to forgive or just let it go. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still use them. Upon explaining his world to Galatea, the blonde had in turn explained his world right back at him. Every single citizen in the Wizarding World was armed with a deadly weapon.
Harry had never thought about that before. The wand, his wand… it was a tool in his eyes, one that allowed him to cast magic. It was amazing, a wondrous thing, an instrument that had allowed him to escape his shitty life with the Dursleys and learn actual magic, year after year. But in Galatea’s eyes, after hearing some of the spells he could do with the wand, she saw it as a weapon.
And… it was. Harry was reminded specifically of Sectumsempra, the lacerating curse that he had unthinkingly used against Malfoy during his Sixth Year. Knowing what he knew now, both that it was of Snape’s own making, and that the man would go on to kill Albus Dumbledore, Harry didn’t feel guilt about using it on Malfoy so much anymore, as he felt guilt that he hadn’t tried to kill Snape right then and there, and keep the man from healing Draco. Maybe if he had, he would have lost… but also maybe he would have caught the treacherous professor by surprise, and Dumbledore would still be alive.
But… the past was in the past. At the end of the day, Galatea was right. A wand was a deadly weapon, and if every witch and wizard in the Wizarding World started treating it as such and started going for the kill against the Death Eaters trying to torture them and their loved ones, maybe something could be shifted in this shadow war.
That was why Harry was here in the Ministry today, having deigned to work with Rufus Scrimgeour after all. Because as Galatea had explained, when you want to topple something that has lasted a thousand years, you can do more work from the inside then out. He would be the mascot that Rufus and his Ministry wanted, if only to finally turn the masses of the Wizarding World fully against Voldemort and his Death Eater. He would use the platform that the Ministry was unthinkingly giving him to do what needed to be done.
He would-
There’s a sudden alarm blaring, and Harry’s eyes widen as he’s startled from his inner thoughts. The Minister, sat across from him, cuts himself off from whatever he was saying as well, standing immediately as he chokes on his spittle.
“Death Eaters… the Death Eaters are attacking the Ministry!”
Harry’s up on his feet the instant he hears that, even as the Minister draws his wand. Just as Harry is going for his, the door behind him opens, and a masked, cloaked figure steps in with their wand pointed at the pair and a curse no doubt on their lips. Harry turns with his wand held up just in time to watch them get thrown back violently through the air, slamming hard into the Death Eater right behind them, sending both masked terrorists all the way down the hall and into the wall with a sickening, meaty crunch.
The amount of blood both leave as their corpses slide down the wall makes it obvious that neither survived the impact. The blood splatter that Harry catches floating in the air back towards him also makes it clear just who dealt with the threat to his life.
“Mr. Potter…”
Licking his lips to wet them, Harry looks back to see Scrimgeour wide-eyed and shocked. It takes a moment for the young wizard to realize that, for all intents and purposes, it looked like he’d just managed to outdraw both a Death Eater and Rufus himself. And that he’d managed to do it silently as well.
Thinking fast, Harry swallows and shakes his head.
“There’s no time!”
Those are the right words, as it turns out, triggering years of Auror Discipline in the new Minister, who nods sharply and moves towards the door. The two of them move out together, even as screams and laughter fill the Ministry, even as spells fly through the air. The entire scene is absolutely chaotic, no matter where you look… which is perhaps why Galatea continues to go unnoticed, even as she takes out the trash.
Harry… never even casts a spell. He points his wand a lot, but in a display of speed that he didn’t even know the flying blonde was capable of, Galatea is always there before the words can even leave his lips, throwing or breaking or simply tearing to pieces whatever Death Eater he’s gestured at. Sometimes, it’s Death Eaters he didn’t even know were there, who were pointing their wands at him. It didn’t really matter in the end because the fact was, any Death Eater that came into view… died.
Part of Harry is horrified by the things he’s witnessing. He wishes he could say the last several years had inured him to this sort of awfulness, to death and destruction… but honestly, magic was usually far cleaner than Galatea seemed to be capable of being. The most mess that Harry had ever seen magic make was once again the Sectumsempra spell, which was specifically designed to cut through flesh and cause massive hemorrhaging.
So yes, this was all distinctly awful, and the way he could feel Minister Scrimgeour and the rest of the innocent Ministry employees they were saving staring at the back of his head as the Death Eaters were slaughtered was… not exactly comfortable. It left him wondering just how well this would all go across, at the end of the day.
But at the same time, another part of him liked it. There was a certain vindication in seeing Voldemort’s followers get torn to shreds. This was it, this was the Dark Lord’s big move, his attempt at taking over the Ministry of Magic. And if Harry and Galatea hadn’t been here, there’s not a doubt in the young wizard’s mind that it would have succeeded too. Especially with just how many wizards and witches wearing Ministry Robes had tried to attack him so far, only for Galatea to take care of them.
Rufus might have been a hardened veteran Auror, but he was just one wizard, at the end of the day. The Death Eaters would have taken him down, and Voldemort would have been the defacto ruler of the British Wizarding World by the end of the day. The thought sends a chill down Harry’s spine, and leaves him almost thankful that he’d let Galatea convince him… even as the blonde in question, still hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak, gets bloodier and bloodier as time goes on.
The Death Eaters had tried their hand at staging a coup against the Ministry, and what they’d gotten instead was a slaughter. While each and every one of them was powerful, none could match Galatea in strength and speed, not even those capable of casting silently.
The… scene, for lack of a better word, that Voldemort and the last members of his Inner Circle walk in on near the end of it, is gory and bloody and incredibly one-sided. Much like at the end of his Fifth Year, Harry finds himself standing in the Ministry Atrium. This time around, he’s not cowering behind the fountain while Voldemort and Dumbledore duel, however. He’s surrounded by the corpses of Voldemort’s followers, their blood and guts and limbs strewn across the floor.
Beside him, floating in the air, is the outline of a bloody, gory woman, her invisible form covered from head to toe in the leftovers of her enemies, her blood-soaked hands curled into fists at her sides as she hovers there.
Responding far more quickly than his followers, Voldemort gets one spell off. Not directed at Harry either, but at Galatea, much to the young wizard’s shock and horror. The spell, a strange glowing orange that Harry doesn’t recognize, splashes over Galatea and the Invisibility Cloak she’s wearing… to seemingly no effect. The next thing Harry knows, a pair of red beams flies out of his impossibly strong lover’s eyes, slamming directly into Voldemort’s own and causing the Dark Lord to positively HOWL.
She burns out his brain, from what Harry can tell, and then she swipes her gaze downwards, and those laser eyes of hers keep on going, down through his torso, through the rest of his body, until he splits in two and his separate halves fall to the floor. The Dark Lord’s death is heralded by silence… until one of the Inner Circle that was standing behind their Dark Lord foolishly raises his wand.
Galatea moves, faster than Harry or anyone else’s eyes can follow, and when she’s done, those last few Death Eaters are dead, ripped to shreds. The fighting was… over, it would seem. Voldemort and his followers were… dead?
Harry’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to process what’s just happened. His first thought is a silly one. Was Galatea the power that the Dark Lord knew not, or something? But no, a moment later a familiar shadowy specter rises up from Voldemort’s remains, and hissing and screaming angrily, it flees the Ministry in front of everyone standing in the Atrium watching.
Shoulders sagging in a combination of relief and despair, Harry lets out a low sigh. On the one hand, at least one thing in his life still made sense. On the other hand, this was one of the few things he would have been happy to have no longer made sense. But no. Voldemort still had horcruxes left, and there was still the prophecy that said Harry was destined to defeat him.
And yet… as the Dark Lord’s spirit runs away screaming like the coward he is, in front of everyone, Harry can appreciate the reprieve that this will mean. With practically all of Voldemort’s followers dead and Voldemort himself reduced to corporeal form once more, who can say just how long they’ll have now? Years, perhaps? Voldemort hadn’t even begun to make a serious attempt at returning until Harry’s First Year, the first time his body got destroyed and he got reduced to a wraith.
That had been over a decade where they’d been free of him… how much more time would they get, now that his followers had been unceremoniously executed, this time around? Not that Harry intended to wait that long, no sir. He-
“… Mr. Potter.”
The Minister’s voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife, and Harry almost turns to regard him, only to freeze up upon realizing that Galatea has floated over to him while he was lost in his thoughts, trying to process everything that this meant. Catching sight of her glowing red eyes turning back to blue beneath the almost completely concealing hood of the blood-soaked, gore-covered Invisibility Cloak, Harry opens his mouth to speak, even beginning to turn towards Scrimgeour, when Galatea suddenly gathers him up in her arms and whisks him away at all due speed.
They leave behind an utterly floored Ministry, and a rather large clean up session before anyone is going to feel comfortable working in the building again… if ever.
-x-X-x-
Whisking Harry back to the Shrieking Shack after killing all of his blatant enemies felt appropriate, given she didn’t know which enemies might be lurking in the shadows, far less blatant but no less sinister. To be quite blunt, all it had taken for Galatea to decide she was entirely annoyed with Harry’s heroic ‘Saving People’ thing, was to hear the boy’s life story.
He just couldn’t get away from it, it seemed. Galatea knew, deep down, that he’d fit in quite well with all of those morons in the Justice League. But at the same time, he was her savior, and it was obvious that in some way, his ‘Saving People’ thing had been what had caused him to save her life in the first place… so Galatea wasn’t about to just abandon him.
That didn’t mean she was going to let certain things like his stupid belief that he could huff it alone against this Dark Lord of his stand though. Determined to… nudge him around to her way of thinking, Galatea had ultimately forced and cajoled him to accept his government’s offer to be their pet Boy-Who-Lived. Mostly by not using the word ‘pet’, and explaining how it would only be temporary, and could only result in good things if he put in the effort.
Of course, not even Galatea could have guessed that this ‘Lord Voldemort’ and his ‘Death Eaters’ would strike at the Ministry while Harry was there. She hadn’t been in this world long enough to know what to expect, frankly. But luckily, Harry had had a way for her to be at his side, while remaining hidden. She fully understood that her young savior’s decision to keep her a secret was him giving in to selfishness for once in his tragically heroic and selfless life, but she was in full agreement on the matter, so she didn’t really mind one bit why he was doing it.
The Invisibility Cloak had worked wonders, allowing for Galatea to deal an uncountable amount of damage to this Voldemort fellow’s forces before they could even touch her. Of course, the so-called Dark Lord himself had managed to get a spell off, but whether it was just completely ineffectual, or whether the Invisibility Cloak had somehow absorbed it, Galatea didn’t know.
In truth, the spell that the Dark Lord had used wasn’t ineffectual… it was simply not up to the task of dealing with what he was up against. When arriving in the Ministry Atrium, Voldemort had had all of a split second to access the situation. What he’d come down to was that the boy, his nemesis, had somehow developed a spell that created a magical construct of great strength and speed, one that he had then directed to destroy Voldemort’s forces in a frankly gruesome display that had almost impressed the Dark Lord himself.
As such, the spell that Voldemort had started off with, going off what he could see and his assessment of the situation, was a spell that should have unraveled said magical construct, effectively dismissing and destroying it, if it were a being made of pure magic. Needless to say, the spell did not work on either of the things it ‘hit’ because for one, Galatea was not magical in the slightest, and for two, the Invisibility Cloak was a magical artifact beyond even Voldemort’s power to effect.
But of course, no one actually knows that save for Voldemort himself, and he’s been reduced to a screaming scepter fleeing the country at all due haste again, living up to his self-given name of ‘Flight from Death’.
All Galatea knows is that she dealt with this so-called Dark Lord and his forces… at least for the time being. Having had Harry tell her just about everything there was to know about his life and given Voldemort factored into that life heavily, the Argoan woman was well aware of these horcruxes and the magical prophecy tying Harry and Voldemort together. Voldemort wasn’t dead yet… but his followers were, so at the very least, Galatea knew she’d bought them lots and lots of time.
Time that she needed to use to great effort right here and now, because Harry was finally beginning to fully process all that had happened back at the Ministry, now that he was sat on the bed in the Shrieking Shack, and he was starting to look at her with horror in those emerald green eyes of his.
“You… killed all those people.”
Pulling the blood-soaked, gore-covered Invisibility Cloak off of her body, revealing that she’s utterly naked underneath, Galatea offers her lover and savior a soft smile, even as she floats down to the floor and then drops to her knees.
“From what you told me, Harry, they all deserved to die.”
He doesn’t stop her from extracting his meaty, thick cock from its confines, nor does he keep her from giving it a tongue bath that quickly has him rising towards full mast. But he’s also not done with his recriminations.
“Not… not all of them. I told you about the Imperius Curse, you remember don’t you? A-At least some of the people in Ministry Robes were probably under the effects of it. Maybe even some of those who were masked…”
He sounds uncertain of that, like he’s not even sure he himself believes what he’s saying. Galatea pauses briefly at his words, not because she feels even a smidgen of guilt at the realization that she might have killed some innocents in his defense, but because she needs to think up exactly how she’s going to make him accept that they were necessary losses. Slowly stroking his cock up and down with her hands and swirling her tongue around his tip, Galatea draws a groan from Harry, before pulling back and speaking again.
“While such losses are regrettable… sometimes those of us with the power to make a difference have to make hard decisions, Harry. If any of them had killed you… who would have defeated Voldemort for good? And did you not also tell me that the Imperius Curse was widely used as an excuse by those you suspected were never properly mind controlled during the LAST war with Voldemort and his followers?”
The grimace on Harry’s face makes it clear he was already thinking about that counterargument to his own words. Swallowing his cockhead whole for a moment, Galatea gives him a little bit of time to think, but not enough time to actually come up with a response before she pulls back again and continues to manipulate her into a state of mind more in line with her way of thinking.
“You also told me that the Imperius Curse can be resisted, that it can even be thrown off by a strong enough mind. You yourself were able to do so, weren’t you?”
“… Y-Yes, but I-!”
“You’re what? Special? Of course, you’re special, Harry. But… it can’t really be that hard to throw off the Imperius Curse, can it? And if it is hard, why is every individual in your government not constantly checked for its effects? Why is there no training against it, to avoid mind control like was done today? You’ve told me all about your Ministry of Magic and its ineptitude, Harry… and I think we can both agree that something needs to be done, right?”
Letting out a hiss as she moves her one hand to his balls and begins to massage them in the way she knows he likes, Harry slowly nods.
“Yesss…”
“You don’t owe any of them anything, Harry. And yet… if I know you, you want to be the hero, don’t you? You want to fix the injustice inherent in this world of magic and wonder you’ve found, don’t you?”
“I-I do…”
Galatea smiles, knowing she has him right where she wants him. He’s… perfect in so many ways. And he saved her life, something that the Argoan Clone will always be grateful for. So why not put in the work to slowly transform Harry into the sort of man that she could see herself pledging her loyalty to fully? Why not bring him around to her way of thinking, so that she could help him save this world of his from itself?
“Then you’re going to need to make some hard decisions, Harry. Voldemort is gone, for now. His followers are dead. The Ministry requires strong leadership… do you honestly believe this Rufus Scrimgeour is the man to give it that?”
“… No…”
“You’re right. He’s not… because you are.”
Watching the young man reel at her words, Galatea dips her head back down and takes Harry back into her mouth, kneeling there on the floor in the buff as she slurps and sucks at his cock while stroking the lower half of his length with her hands. After a few moments, she applies her breasts to the problem as well, giving Harry a phenomenal blowjob-titjob combo as she lets the thoughts she’s put in his mind percolate.
She’s going to push him towards seizing control of this world, starting with his government, this Ministry of Magic. One step at a time.
-x-X-x-
To say Hermione was… flummoxed would be an understatement, perhaps even the understatement of the century. To say she was distraught would likewise not even begin to cover the myriad of emotions that the beautiful young brunette Muggleborn was experiencing. And all of those emotions were centered around one young man in particular… her best friend, Harry Potter.
She’d been worried about Harry for a while now. He’d seemed so much more distant ever since Dumbledore’s funeral, like he was cutting them out of his life and trying to go it alone. Hermione had been preparing to stage an intervention, to let Harry know that she and Ron and everyone else in the Order of the Phoenix would have his back, no matter what… when Harry had done the unthinkable.
Siding with the Ministry, even if they were finally willing to admit that Voldemort was back, even if they’d finally kicked Fudge to the curb… it seemed so contradictory to everything Hermione thought she knew about her friend. Harry should never have been willing to play the Ministry’s mascot, not after all the shit that the governmental body had put him through over the years.
And yet, he had, and Hermione had still been processing that when news of the attempted coup at the Ministry had reached her at The Burrow. A coup, by Voldemort and his followers, taking place precisely when Harry was supposed to be meeting with the Minister to work out what his support of Scrimgeour’s government was going to look like. To say she’d raced to the Ministry as fast as possible would once again, be an understatement. She’d rushed to Harry’s aid, but ultimately been far too late to be useful as anything but a witness.
Arriving as the Ministry, Hermione had searched the halls for any sign of Harry, but only found a massacre, broken and torn apart bodies and blood and guts and gore all around her. The fact that those bodies were almost universally attached to masked faces and wearing the dark cloaks of Death Eaters was little comfort to the young woman, who had never seen such wanton death and destruction before.
She’d arrived in the atrium just in time to hear Scrimgeour call out to Harry with that crisp, disapproving ‘Mr. Potter’, and to witness something truly terrifying. Her friend was standing there, and before him was a blood-covered, gore-coated shape of a woman, floating in the air. It looked as if the shape had leaned down to kiss Harry… and then they’d both vanished, Hermione assumed by Portkey.
Before the Minister could catch sight of her and register her presence and her position as one of Harry’s dearest friends, Hermione had gone ahead and gotten out of there as well, desperate for answers, desperate to locate her friend and figure out what the hell was going on. And… she’d gotten lucky, checking the Shrieking Shack third in her list of places that Harry might have hidden away.
Or perhaps it was unlucky, given what happened next. As Hermione sneaks in through the entrance beneath the Whomping Willow, she comes out of the tunnel just in time to catch a beautiful, incredibly buxom, fully naked blonde in the middle of giving Harry a blowjob-titjob as Harry himself threw his head back in pleasure, seemingly cumming in that moment, right into the willing, eager blonde’s mouth.
The bloody silver of the Invisibility Cloak laying nearby allows a young woman as sharp as Hermione to put things together quite quickly and realize that this… this blonde BIMBO was the womanly shape under the cloak back at the Ministry… but in truth, she’s more focused on the sexual act then anything else, as embarrassing as that is.
Before Hermione can stop herself, a tiny, shocked gasp leaves her lips… and somehow doesn’t escape the blonde’s notice. With a blur, the other, more buxom woman is standing in front of Hermione. Coming face to face with the blonde beauty, Hermione’s eyes widen, and her pupils dilate in the instinctive fear response of a mouse cornered by an apex predator.
At the same time, she doesn’t fail to notice that the blonde beauty’s mouth and lips are still stained white with Harry’s cum, and Hermione takes in an involuntary breath at the other woman’s sudden proximity, causing her to inhale the musky scent of sex, Harry’s scent at that, straight from the stranger’s mouth.
Once again, before Hermione can even think to react, the blonde is pulling her into a kiss. A kiss that sends the thick, viscous cum that Harry just deposited into the naked woman’s mouth, slopping right into Hermione’s, as the stranger forces Hermione’s head back, her entire spine arching in fact, and kisses her like a lover might kiss their dance partner after dipping them low.
Despite herself, Hermione can’t help but swallow. Harry’s seed… it’s just as good as she’s fantasized about, all these years. A blush spreads across the cute brunette’s face at that thought, but she can’t just push it down like she always has before. It’s all but impossible to repress her slutty thoughts like she’s been doing for years now, when she’s being held in the impossibly strong arms of a naked buxom blonde who just got done sucking off the guy Hermione has had a crush on since she was eleven.
More than a little dazed, Hermione can only yelp as she’s subsequently yanked further into the Shrieking Shack, forced to her knees right in front of Harry and his still exposed cock, as the blonde forces her head back and stands directly behind her, holding her in place.
“It seems we have a voyeur watching us, sir~”
The blonde stranger’s tone is deceptively light, teasing, but Hermione can detect some menace behind it. Harry though, takes one look at Hermione and his eyes go wide as he chokes out her name in shock.
“H-Hermione?”
There’s a pause behind Hermione, and she can almost hear her captor tilting her blonde head to the side.
“This is Hermione? The one you called the Smartest Witch of Her Generation?”
“Y-Yeah… let her go, Galatea… Hermione, what are you doing here?”
Galatea releases her, but Hermione doesn’t make any move to stand up. She stays on her knees, her face inches away from Harry’s cock, though she doesn’t look at it as she instead stares up at him, licking her lips nervously.
“I… I was looking for you, o-of course. I arrived at the Ministry near the end of Voldemort’s attack… I was scared for you. Harry, who is this?”
Hermione glances back over her shoulder up at the now-named ‘Galatea’ as she asks that, only for the blonde to smirk easily and answer for Harry before he can.
“Unimportant. You know my name is Galatea now… but you may call me Mistress. Just as we both know you desperately want to call Harry Master.”
Hermione’s eyes widen at that, even as her blush intensifies at having her deepest, darkest desires just… laid out like that. How? How was this strange woman somehow digging right to the heart of Hermione’s pent-up feelings? How had she taken one look at Hermione, and so quickly and accurately pinned her to a board and labeled her?
“G-Galatea, it’s not like that! Hermione and I are friends, she’s not… I’m not… we’re not like that…”
And if Hermione thinks she detects a tone of regret that they AREN’T like that in Harry’s voice, she does her best to nip such a thought in the bud, because she’s already long since accepted that she and Harry probably wouldn’t be together. Not after he’d not so much as considered her an acceptable choice for the Yule Ball in their Fourth Year, instead trying first with Cho Chang, and then ultimately grabbing the Patil Twins for himself and Ron.
“Tell that to her, Harry. Look at her… and I mean really look at her. I’ve stopped holding her down. I’m not forcing her to stay on her knees, inches from your naked member. I gave her a little kiss, when I first caught her… and she imbibed some of your essence in the process. NOW look at her… truly look at her.”
Hermione positively eeps as she feels Harry’s gaze focus intensely on her. She tries to stand up then, to back away from his cock now that Galatea has outright exposed her perverse desire to remain kneeling and close, but the blonde doesn’t let her, her hands going back to Hermione’s shoulders and holding the squirming witch in place for Harry to inspect.
And inspect her he does, no doubt noticing everything from her parted, panting lips to her dilated pupils, to her flushed, flustered face. Hermione can feel it all over her, all her vaunted self control gone as she exposes just how much of a wanton… s-slut she is to Harry. He’s going to hate her, she just knows it, and to think, she’s managed to hide her true feelings for so long.
“Mione… is it… is it true? You… did you like the taste of my cum?”
Her blush intensifies further, and Hermione hangs her head, before ultimately nodding slowly, both as answer to his question, and in acceptance of the fact that she’s finally been found out, despite her best efforts.
Galatea speaks up then, the buxom blonde as confident in her words as ever.
“She wants you, Harry. And you want her just as badly, don’t you?”
Hermione’s eyes snap up at that, but before they can reach Harry’s face again to discern the truth of Galatea’s accusation, they get caught on his cock instead. His cock, which is so very big and thick and hard, and standing proud and pointed directly at her face, despite him just cumming minutes before. Meanwhile, Harry suddenly sounds a little… panicked.
“T-Tea, I wouldn’t… you know I would never cheat on you, I-!”
Before Hermione’s heart can even drop to her stomach at the realization that she’s missed her opportunity, Galatea is laughing in response.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. I want you to fuck this girl just as badly as she wants you to fuck her, just as badly as YOU want you to fuck her. But we’re going to do this right, okay? There’s a hierarchy here, and dear Ms. Granger needs to learn it. Will you leave that in my hands?”
Hermione’s eyes dart up from Harry’s cock to his face just in time to see him looking completely poleaxed, even as he slowly nods. Then, Galatea is pulling her up to her feet and Hermione is suddenly bereft of robes as the impossibly strong blonde rips the garments from her body, said garments supposed to be magically enchanted to be more durable.
Her similarly enchanted undergarments in Gryffindor red and gold go the same way, torn from her by Galatea as Hermione is left completely naked. One hand in Hermione’s hair, forming a makeshift ponytail out of her curls that she uses to take firm hold of the young witch’s head. The other hand slides around to Hermione’s front, casually groping and squeezing at her breasts, even as she’s constantly reminded by the feel of Galatea’s own tits pressing into her back that one of them is far more endowed then the other.
And more skilled too because it… it feels good. Galatea’s touch is neither inexperienced nor ham-fisted. Harsh? Perhaps just a little, but she clearly knows what she’s doing as she molests Hermione right in front of Harry, playing with the brunette witch’s tits while pulling her head back and whispering into her ear.
“You and I both know how bad you want this, girl. So, you’re going to do exactly what I say, and together we’re going to show Harry your love for him. If you disobey, you will be punished. Are we understood?”
Shivering, trembling with need, Hermione bites her lower lip as she looks into Harry’s green eyes. He looks a little concerned, but not as much as he was anymore. Instead, he’s looking at her hungrily… and for the first time in her life, the young woman can tell that Harry desires her. That means the world to Hermione, and so she nods her head as best she can, jerking it up and down a little in Galatea’s iron grasp.
“Good girl.”
The next thing she knows, her arms are behind her back and she’s forced to her knees again, once more brought face-to-cock with Harry’s magnificent member. Galatea has her wrists trapped in a one-handed iron grip, restraining Hermione even as she maintains her hold on Hermione’s hair and the makeshift ponytail she’s made out of the witch’s locks.
“Open.”
Hermione opens, and Galatea wastes no time in sliding her lips over the head of Harry’s cock.
“Suck.”
Hermione sucks, enthusiastically even, her eyes flickering between staring at Harry’s gargantuan member and the young man’s face, watching as he groans in pleasure. She’s doing that, her, and to be honest, it sends a thrill of pleasure through the brilliant brunette that she’s able to do that for Harry, that she’s able to give him that pleasure.
“Don’t forget your tongue, girl.”
She had forgotten her tongue, and Hermione hurries to apply it to Harry’s cock, forced to writhe her tongue across the underside of his length as Galatea forces her further and further down his dick while keeping her restrained and helpless. It’s… unbelievably hot, truth be told. Hermione wishes to Merlin that she could touch herself right now, because she’s never been more turned on, but at the same time, half of what’s turning her on is the light bondage, the denial of her ability to masturbate, and the way she’s not so much sucking Harry off, as being used by Galatea to get him off.
Nowhere is that last bit more apparent then in how the blonde begins to force her past the point Hermione herself would have been able to go on her own. The brunette gags as the head of Harry’s thick, bulbous member hits the back of her throat, but Galatea doesn’t seem to care, forcing Hermione to take more even as she chokes, even as she gurgles on Harry’s prick.
“Glughk… Glughk… Glughk…”
Her face must be getting red, because the next time Harry looks down at her from where he’s constantly throwing his head back and groaning in pleasure, he frowns and speaks up.
“Tea… I don’t want you to hurt Hermione for my pleasure.”
The blonde pauses, and Hermione is pulled all the way back off of Harry’s cock, though the hold that Galatea is maintaining on her hair and wrists remains as strong as ever. As Hermione’s small bust heaves up and down, the young woman catching her breath, Galatea speaks down at her.
“And what do you want, Ms. Granger?”
The words spill forth from Hermione’s lips before she can second guess herself, coming from deep in her dark depths as she looks Harry directly in the eye while she says them.
“D-Do whatever you want with me, Mistress. I want… I just want to please Harry.”
Harry’s gobsmacked expression makes Hermione blush in embarrassment, but when Galatea pushes her forward insistently once more with an evil laugh, the brunette lets her lips open as she swallows Harry’s cockhead, and then his cock, all over again. As Galatea drives Hermione back down to the point of forcing him to deep-throat Harry’s cock, the two have a conversation over the brunette’s head that Hermione only half-pays attention to. Her eyes, crossed at the moment, are focused on just how much of his massive length is still outside of her lips, and she’s currently wondering if, with Galatea’s help, she might just be able to take him all the way to the base.
“You see, Harry… your friend is a slut.”
“H-Hey!”
“It’s true. Look at her. Look at how desperate she is for your cock. She wants this, she wants every last bit of it… I’m just giving her a helping hand.
“Hulghk… Hulghk… Hulghk…”
“… Hermione…”
“She wants it, Harry. She’s likely wanted it for a long time, and you just didn’t see the writing on the wall. Just how long have you been this girl’s hero, hm?”
Harry stutters and stammers at that. Hermione could and would have answered truthfully and promptly, but currently, she had the much more important task of choking down Harry’s cock, inch by inch. She was over halfway down his length now, her neck bulging and her throat spasming. No thanks to her own merits, of course, Galatea was the one who, with her iron grip on Hermione’s makeshift ponytail, was forcing her so far down.
Trembling, her eyes watery, Hermione lets out a gurgling moan around Harry’s prick, trying to let him know she’s happy like this, that this is where she’s meant to be. When he glances down at her, she glances up at him… and the young man curses as he loses himself in that moment.
“F-Fuck!”
Hermione’s eyes widen with excitement and anticipation as she realizes Harry is about to cum, but before his seed can hit the back of her throat and further complicate matters and choke her out even more, her blonde Mistress yanks her back off of Harry’s cock and in a split second, has taken her place, even as she bends Hermione out of the way.
Hermione has a perfect angle of Galatea swallowing Harry’s cock whole right as he begins to cum, the blonde bent over Hermione’s body and arching her back as her neck bulges and her throat begins to swallow and swallow and swallow. A pitiful whimpering whine leaves Hermione’s throat at the sight. It’s not fair! That was supposed to be hers, her next helping of Harry’s delicious cum! She was the one who’d spent all that time sucking Harry’s cock, positively worshipping it!
How quickly she forgot how Galatea had done all the work. Harry, too busy cumming down Galatea’s throat, doesn’t notice Hermione’s disappointment. But the buxom naked blonde certainly does, and when she finally pulls back off of Harry’s cock with a pop, having fully emptied his balls without even spilling a drop of his seed, she does so with a self-satisfied smirk on her lips, looking down at Hermione like a human might look down at a bug… or a Mistress might look down at a disobedient submissive slut.
“Do you have something to say, slut?”
Hermione shivers, but quickly shakes her head. If her Mistress didn’t want her to have Harry’s cum, then she wasn’t entitled to Harry’s cum. That was the way it was… Hermione was quickly recognizing the hierarchy that Galatea had spoken of before, and truth be told, she was fine with being on the bottom, if it meant she could be with Harry.
“Tea…”
Harry sounded less sure though, even now. But he doesn’t actually reprimand the buxom blonde, who just scoffs and suddenly yanks Hermione off the ground, pushing her onto the bed face first, pinning her head down to the mattress and barking at her to get her hips up in the air.
With Galatea’s hands still holding Hermione by her hair and wrists, she quickly obeys, lifting her hips high and thus her ass even higher as she exposes her glistening wet cunt to both her Mistress’ eyes and… and Harry’s. His shocked exhalation makes Hermione blush profusely… while also turning her on even further.
“Mione… you’re so damn wet…”
His fingers make contact a moment later, brushing against her slit, and Hermione lets out a wanton moan in response, trying to push her hips backwards into his digits so that he’ll penetrate her, desperate for relief.
SMACK!
In response, Galatea deals a stinging spanking to Hermione’s ass that has the brunette witch positively squealing as she shifts forward again, instinctively trying to escape the palm.
“Bad girl. You’ll cum when we tell you that you can cum, and not a moment later. No seeking out pleasure that WE have not deigned to give you. Is that understood?”
Before Harry can contradict Galatea again, wanting to get on both her long-time crush AND her long-time crush’s lover’s good sides, Hermione quickly pipes up.
“Y-Yes, Mistress!”
There’s another exhalation from Harry, as if he’s finally understanding just… just what sort of girl Hermione really is. It leaves Hermione blushing, knowing that she’s effectively giving away her true nature… but given all that’s happened so far, she’s not really afraid of rejection. Galatea wants her here, even if it’s to be their sub, and Harry… Harry seems to be enjoying himself, if the load she milked from his cock with her throat was any indication.
“Well, Harry? She’s ready for you… she knows better than to cum without permission. And you seem to be more than ready for her. Go on then… claim her. Claim your pet witch, take her for your own.”
Hermione doesn’t dare move, though she’s still trembling as she kneels there, face down on the bed, ass up in the air. She strains her hearing, and thinks she hears some shuffling and feeling some movement, but all that she gets out of Harry before it finally happens is a single word, spoken quietly, under his breath.
“… Fuck…”
And then he’s pressing his cock into her cunt and Hermione is seeing stars. A quick smack to her ass from Galatea cools her raging libido, the pain equaling out the pleasure as she experiences her first time at Harry’s hands… or rather, at the end of his big fat dick. The feeling of him tearing through her hymen and taking her virginity also helps to calm her down a bit. He slowly pushes into her, and whenever Hermione gets too worked up, Galatea is there to punish her for almost unthinkingly cumming without permission, to keep her in line.
The longer this goes on, the more grateful for the blonde’s presence that Hermione is. As she whimpers beneath Harry, feeling his hands now on her hips, his cock buried in her glistening wet twat, Hermione doesn’t even dare to move, knowing that she might set herself off and lose out on this amazing opportunity. She couldn’t cum, not before she was allowed. If she did, she’d be punished, and more deprivation and denial was almost certainly the punishment that her Mistress had in mind.
“How does she feel, Harry? Does she feel good?”
“Y-Yeah…”
“Not as good as me, I hope?”
“No, she… sorry Mione, but you can’t hold a candle to Tea…”
It’s a blunt statement of what Harry seems to believe is fact, leaving Hermione biting her lower lip as a flash of envy and jealousy goes through her, before ultimately acceptance is what she settles on. Of course, she can’t hold a handle to the Mistress. If she could, SHE would be the Mistress, and Galatea would be the one on the bottom…
“Don’t call her that anymore. Call her a slut. Or a whore. Or your bitch. Hell, even pet.”
There’s a moment of silence, of hesitation on Harry’s part.
“… I’m not sure I can do that, Tea. She’s… she’s been my best friend since I was eleven.”
“Just try it. You’re buried in her dripping wet cunt Harry, after she let me fuck her face on your cock. Do you think you won’t be able to tell if she doesn’t like it?”
Another beat of silence, Hermione frozen in anticipation… and then it arrives.
“… You’re such a slut, Mione.”
Her cunt clenches involuntarily at Harry’s words, and he groans as she grips and squeezes his cock quite noticeably in response to the verbal degradation.
“F-Fuck… she liked it… she liked it a lot.”
“Of course, she did, what have I been telling you?! Now, let me prepare her real quick.”
Galatea’s hands leave Hermione’s body, but a moment later there’s cloth binding her wrists behind her back all the same. It takes a moment for Hermione to realize it’s her torn underwear that’s being used to bind her hands behind her. Her hair, on the other hand, spills out all around her head, veiling her face as she lays there, burying her features in the bedding. A quick glance back before doing so shows that Galatea has moved behind Harry, rubbing her substantial rack into his chest, and wrapping her arms around him to run across his front as she whispers into his ear.
“Go on, Harry… give it to her.”
Beginning to fuck her, Harry starts out slow and uncertain at first, but quickly begins to find his speed. As he does so, he starts to speak, starts to… to verbally deride Hermione along with fucking her in this humiliating position.
“You’re… you’re my bitch, aren’t you?”
She mewls in agreement, even nodding her head as she rubs her cheeks into the bedding.
“You’re my… my pet.”
“Yesss~”
“You want this, don’t you, you whore? You want me to fuck you hard, to call you names, to take what I want from you…”
“I-I do, Harry!”
SMACK!
“Master… you call him Master, you naughty little tart.”
Galatea’s punishing spanking refocuses Hermione’s mind and brings her back from the orgasm again, the blonde always seeming to know when she needs the pain to cancel out the pleasure. Except, as they keep going on, the pain is doing less and less to stop the pleasure… and more to amplify it.
“Y-Yes! S-Sorry Master, I’ll do b-better!”
Harry just grunts, not even remotely phased at this point, from the sound of things. He’s also sounding less and less uncertain, as he fucks into Hermione from behind, as he takes her… as he dominates her. Because that’s what it really comes down to, in the end? He’s dominating her, and Hermione… Hermione is letting it happen. Did she ever have a choice? Yes, yes she did. She had multiple opportunities to put a stop to this, back when Harry would have sided with her over this blonde woman who’d suddenly come into his life.
But Hermione hadn’t wanted to put a stop to it. From the very first moment that she got a taste of his essence during that cum swap that Galatea had initiated, Hermione had wanted more. Hell, from the very first moment that she’d watched Harry Potter fight a fucking Cave Troll for her, Hermione, even as a young girl, had known that she wanted to give the world to him. Of course, time had gone on, they’d all grown up, and Hermione had thought she didn’t have a chance to ever be more than Harry’s friend.
Now though, she was finally getting that chance, and it was all thanks to this blonde stranger. Frankly, Hermione didn’t care who Galatea was anymore… beyond the simple truth that Galatea was her Mistress, and so long as that fact allowed Hermione to refer to Harry as her Master and get fucked by his magnificent cock, she didn’t care if she was the bottom of this totem pole.
Of course, as Harry keeps on fucking her and Galatea tries to keep applying pain to manage Hermione’s raging libido and keep her from cumming, it becomes more and more difficult to hold back her orgasm. Hermione certainly isn’t going to say anything, but to her credit, Galatea can somehow tell and calls for Harry to just flat out stop fucking Hermione.
“She’s acclimating to the pain nicely, my love… I think our pet has a bit of a masochistic streak hiding under all of her insecurities as well.”
Harry’s befuddled repetition of ‘masochistic?’ in his confused voice reminds Hermione just how… sheltered her best friend has always been. Galatea doesn’t tease him for it, beyond a casual laugh.
“It means she enjoys pain almost as much as pleasure, Harry. Your friend, our little slut here… she’s starting to anticipate and long for my spankings. She WANTS to be hurt. Which means it’s not longer a useful tool to keep her from cumming before she’s allowed to.”
“Oh, well in that case…”
Quite suddenly, Harry is leaning over her, molding his body to her own, one of his arms holding her along the belly, and the other coming up to rest on her neck. His hot breath tickles her ear as he speaks.
“You can cum now, slut.”
She didn’t even know just how badly she wanted to hear those words from Harry before it happened. Hermione’s eyes go wide, and then fully roll back in her head as she lets go of the strenuous grasp she has over herself, her frayed self control shattering immediately with permission given by her Master. She cums, and she cums HARD, orgasming explosively all along Harry’s cock and drawing an appreciative groan from her lifelong crush, even as he pulls back again.
There’s the smacking of lips against lips, like he and Mistress are kissing, and when they pull apart, Galatea sounds both amused and admonishing, but definitely more of the former than the latter.
“You spoil her, love.”
Harry, sounding more and more confident by the moment, chuckles, and Hermione thinks she can feel him shrug, from the way his arms move up and down where they’ve returned to gripping her hips.
“Maybe I do… but you’ll have to forgive me that, she’s my childhood friend.”
Letting loose a put-upon sigh, Galatea suddenly moves from behind Harry to up to Hermione’s head again.
“Very well… give it to her, Harry. Fuck our pet silly. I’ll make sure she knows how to respect and worship her Mistress in the same way she worships her Master~”
Hermione gasps as her head is lifted up by the hair, her Mistress gathering her curly brunette locks into a makeshift ponytail again, bringing her face up off of the bed for just a moment, before grinding Hermione down into her moist pussy lips.
“Lick.”
And so, Hermione licks, even as Harry fucks her from behind, grunting and groaning all the while. By the time he finally cums inside of her, by the time he creampies her, Hermione has lost track of the number of times she’s cum on command for her Master and Mistress, and truth be told, she’s in no mental state to complain when he pulls out of her cream-filled quim and starts fucking Galatea next.
She’s just happy that she’s finally found a home, a family where she can be her slutty, submissive, masochistic self and stop hiding from who she truly is.
-x-X-x-
Zatanna Zatara, one of the Justice League’s resident magicians and foremost experts on magic in general, frowns as she looms over Kara Zor-El’s bed, staring down at the sleeping form of Supergirl and examining her mind. Dressed like the cross between a stage magician and his scantily clad assistant, the magical heroine had been approached by Kara just earlier that day, to help decipher her rather embarrassing dreams.
Now, together, the two of them explored her sleeping mind together, Zatanna having awoken Kara within her unconscious mind, so they could maybe get a good idea of just what was happening. Of course, by this point the two of them had a very good idea indeed of just what was happening to poor Kara. The flashes of death and carnage made it obvious that the clone of Kara, the one who’d named herself Galatea, wasn’t actually dead after all.
In fact, it seemed that she no longer had any compunction to hold back her strength when dealing with these mysterious, strangely dressed human foes of hers, like back when her bond with Kara was much stronger and the original’s moral and conscience could off-set the clone’s bloodthirsty attitude.
But as bad as all of that was, it was nothing compared to watching the Argoan clone have her way with a handsome, green-eyed, well-hung young man. As Galatea went down on him, sucking his massive cock into her mouth and touching herself as she bobbed up and down his length, both Zatanna and Kara got some of the bleed off of Galatea’s immense arousal… and other feelings for this strange young man.
As the young man cums down Galatea’s throat and the taste of his seed hits the two watching the scene as well, Zatanna rears back as if struck by the deliciousness of that magically infused cum, and quickly comes out of Kara’s mind, ending the connection so abruptly and waking Kara with a loud cry in the process. As the blonde sits up in her bed, rubbing her head, they can only hope that Galatea didn’t experience the same sort of pain, or she might just realize they were watching.
Further recovering from the amorous desires filling the clone’s mind, and the arousal filling her alien body, Zatanna’s mouth is dry as she licks her lips.
“I may… I may know where she’s gone, Kara. But I’ll need to follow up on that lead alone and get back to you.”
For a moment, Kara looks ready to complain, ready to whine. But then she stills, squirms a bit, and finally nods.
“O-Okay… just please, keep me in the loop.”
Assuring the young Argoan that she would, Zatanna flees Kara’s room with all due haste. She heads back to her own private quarters in the Justice League’s Watchtower. While she has every intention of confirming her suspicions of just where and who Galatea is with, alongside checking up on how the insular and altogether bigoted British Wizarding World was doing, first… she had to get this out of her system.
The scantily clad magical heroine barely even bothers stripping out of her costume before she throws herself on the bed and begins to touch herself, one white gloved hand working its way past her shirt and bra to play with her breasts, while the other descends betwixt her creamy thighs to work at her cunt. But as much as she’s enjoying masturbating, it’s not… it’s not the same. After a moment, Zatanna calls on her magic.
“Ekam em a kcoc ot llif ym ylleb htiw eht s’yob muc!”
In the air in front of her, a familiar cock magically materializes. Floating just above her lips, Zatanna wastes no time in opening wide and letting it descend. The magical cock is insistent, and is soon choking her with its length, causing the horny, beautiful magician to slobber and slurp all over it as her lips and jaw are stretched wide.
“Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!”
Meanwhile, her hands continue to work away at her body, bringing her no end of pleasure. And finally, when the magical protection lets loose with a torrent of seed, forcing Zatanna to swallow lest she drown under a load of her own making… it tastes exactly like HIS seed, filling her belly and leaving her nice and warm as the cock fades away and the magical heroine slumps back on her bed, covered in sweat and her own pussy juices.
Meanwhile, back in her room, Kara, left to her own devices, could do nothing more than the same. That was precisely why the blonde hadn’t fought harder to go with Zatanna, wherever she was going next. As soon as the magician is gone, the Argoan’s hands drift down to her pussy, and she begins to finger herself, first one digit, and then two, and then three as she moans wantonly.
Of course, much like Zatanna, it doesn’t feel the same… but unlike Zatanna, Kara doesn’t have magic to produce a simulacrum of Harry’s cock and cum for her to feast herself upon like a pig. Instead, she has to settle for sticking her fingers in her mouth and sucking on them. Eventually, she’s trying to push them halfway down her throat, as the only way it seems she’s able to cum is if she’s choking herself on something.
Hips lifting off the bed, pussy juices squirting all over the place, the young Argoan exhausts herself masturbating, and finally manages to fall back to sleep. But it isn’t a dreamless sleep or anything like that. Her dreams continue to be filled with sex, violence, and the tender embrace of a mysterious young man.
Part of her hopes that Zatanna can figure this out so they can capture Galatea and end this already. But a smaller yet growing part of Kara is starting to long for that young man’s embrace in person instead…
-x-X-x-
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