NOVEL NEXT Chapter 11: Chapter 11
Harry woke up at the crack of dawn, feeling the cool breeze seeping through the castle walls. The rest of the Gryffindor dorm was still asleep, snoring softly under thick blankets. But Harry had plans; he needed to test his limits, push his magic further. He slipped out of bed, threw on a pair of shorts, and made his way out to the Black Lake.
The water was freezing, biting against his skin as he dove in, but Harry relished the shock of it. Each stroke cut through the icy water, his muscles straining and tensing. When he finally pulled himself out, he was breathless, his body steaming in the early morning chill. He climbed onto a flat rock near the shore, the cold stone pressing against his bare skin as he sat cross-legged. Closing his eyes, he tried to summon his magic, focusing through the shivers.
It was tough; the cold made his thoughts scatter, but he felt a flicker, a faint hum of power beneath the surface. It wasn't much, but it was there.
Just as he was starting to get the hang of it, a warm, heavy weight settled on his shoulders. Harry's eyes snapped open. Standing beside him was Millicent Bulstrode, Slytherin's bulky girl with a permanent scowl that usually kept everyone at a distance. She'd draped a thick blanket over him, her face partially hidden behind her tousled hair.
"You shouldn't do that," she muttered, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it. "Women… they're beasts, you know? They won't leave you alone if you're like this. All… open."
Harry watched her, curious. Millicent wasn't the kind of girl who got involved; she was the one people ignored, mocked, or just overlooked entirely. But there was something genuine in the way she spoke, a note of concern that caught Harry off guard. In this messed-up world, she was playing the nice girl, and Harry hadn't expected to find that in Slytherin. But the way she left right after, not looking back, told Harry she wasn't seeking anything from him. She just didn't want to see him hunted down by the more aggressive witches.
He shrugged off the blanket with a smirk, tossing it aside as he got up. He had no problem showing off, and Millicent's attempt to protect him, though kind, wasn't going to stop him from doing things his way. Harry sauntered back toward the castle, his bare chest gleaming in the morning light.
As he entered the castle, Oliver Wood was jogging by, sweaty from his own workout. "Bloody hell, Potter, you're up early," Oliver said, eyeing Harry's toned torso. "You're gonna be a hell of a Seeker if you keep this up."
Harry grinned, enjoying the attention. "Gotta stay sharp, right?"
Further down the hall, Angelina Johnson was leaning against the wall, pretending to check her nails. When she saw him, she let out a low whistle, her eyes blatantly wandering over his chest and abs. Harry raised an eyebrow, amused.
"What's with the whistle, Angie?" he asked, teasingly.
Angelina's cheeks flushed, and she fumbled for an excuse. "Uh, just practicing… you know, whistling. For the game."
Harry smirked. "Think you could teach me?"
She nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to his body as she showed him how to position his fingers in his mouth. Harry played dumb, missing the point on purpose. She tried to correct him, her fingers clumsy and awkwardly close as she guided his hands. Harry took it further, grabbing her fingers and slipping them into his mouth, holding her gaze while he whistled loud and clear. He slowly pulled her fingers out, his tongue flicking against them, leaving them wet with his saliva.
"Thanks, Angie," he said with a wicked grin, watching her cheeks burn bright red. She mumbled something, her eyes darting away, and hurried back to her dorm, but not before Harry caught the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut. He leaned in, pressing his ear against the wood, and snickered quietly at the faint wet sounds, the desperate gasps. Yeah, he knew exactly what she was doing in there, and the thought sent a surge of heat straight to his cock.
Feeling the pressure building, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor baths, his mind already set. Inside, he found Lavender, lounging in the steam, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw him.
"Up for another bath?" Harry strode into the steam-filled bath, the heavy air clinging to his skin as he approached Lavender. She was leaning back against the smooth marble edge, her body barely hidden beneath the water's surface, her eyes already locked onto him. As he stepped in, Harry didn't hesitate, his muscles taut and glistening as he moved with purpose, the water rippling around his thighs.
Lavender's gaze dropped to his stiff erection, her lips parting slightly in a hungry, involuntary gasp. She shifted, her hands gripping the edge of the bath as she stared, her breath coming faster. Harry smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up, and stepped closer, the heat between them more intense than the steam swirling around their bodies.
"You should clean that first," Lavender said, her voice sultry and thick with barely restrained desire, her eyes never leaving his cock. There was a playful yet needy gleam in her eyes, the kind that told Harry she'd been thinking about this moment since their last encounter. She leaned forward, her wet hair sticking to her shoulders, her mouth open and inviting.
Harry didn't need to be asked twice. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging her head back slightly, just enough to see the flash of anticipation in her eyes. He guided her down slowly, her lips brushing against the swollen head, and Lavender let out a soft, shaky breath. She glanced up, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before taking him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his thickness.
The warm, wet slide of her tongue was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as she started to work. Her mouth moved with a steady rhythm, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked, creating a delicious pull that made Harry's grip on her hair tighten. He could feel her trembling, could hear the soft, wet sounds of her efforts echoing in the small, steamy room.
Harry watched her, every movement deliberate as she bobbed her head, saliva slicking him as she took him deeper. The bathwater splashed around them with each motion, a chaotic mess of heat and tension. Harry's breath hitched as he felt her tongue swirling, licking along the sensitive underside, her movements precise and practiced. She gagged slightly, pulling back to catch her breath, a line of saliva connecting her lips to his cock. Harry chuckled, his fingers still tangled in her hair, tugging her closer.
"Watch those teeth," he warned, his voice low and rough, the command laced with a dark edge. Lavender nodded, her eyes watering from the strain, but she didn't hesitate. She redoubled her efforts, adjusting her jaw to keep her teeth out of the way, her lips pressing tighter as she took him deeper again. Her eyes fluttered closed, lost in the act, a soft, desperate moan vibrating against his length as she found a rhythm that made his head spin.
The sensation was raw, her mouth hot and eager, every drag of her lips sending sharp jolts of pleasure up his spine. Harry rocked his hips, shallow thrusts that pushed him further into her mouth, testing her limits. Lavender's hands clutched his thighs for balance, her nails digging in slightly as she struggled to keep up. She was determined, though, pushing herself to take more, her lips stretched wide as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard.
Harry could feel every subtle movement—the way her tongue flicked against him, the tight seal of her lips, and the subtle scrape of her teeth just barely kept at bay. He watched her face closely, seeing the mix of concentration and lust in her eyes as she glanced up at him, her cheeks flushed and her breathing ragged. She pulled back again, gasping as she caught her breath, her lips swollen and slick with spit. Harry's cock glistened in the steam, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the sight of her—messy, eager, and entirely at his mercy.
Once she'd cleaned him to his satisfaction, Harry yanked her up, her breasts pressing against his chest as she clung to him for support. They stood there for a moment, the heat of their bodies mingling, both of them panting. Harry's hands roamed over her curves, sliding down her slick back, his fingers tracing the lines of her spine before dipping lower. Lavender shivered under his touch, her eyes half-lidded, every inch of her begging silently for more.
They washed each other slowly, hands exploring every contour, every dip and curve, water cascading between them. Lavender's touch was soft yet lingering, her fingers tracing over the muscles of his chest, down his abs, each movement deliberate and sensual. Harry did the same, taking his time to run his hands over her, squeezing and caressing, feeling her body react to every little brush of his fingertips.
Lavender's breath hitched as Harry's hands slid over her hips, gripping her firmly as he pulled her closer, letting their bodies press together under the spray. Her nipples grazed his chest, hard and sensitive, and she bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to spill out. Harry chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, and he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as his fingers skimmed lower, teasing at the line of her thigh.
They were both on the edge, the simple act of cleaning turned into a slow, teasing game of touch and restraint. Harry knew exactly what he was doing, savoring every shiver and gasp he pulled from her, every soft whimper that escaped her lips. The bath had turned into something far more intimate, and as they finally stepped out, drying off and catching their breath, Harry knew it wouldn't be long before Lavender was back, craving the next time he'd take control.
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