Harry's Bucket List - Chapter 23

Summary: After learning the truth about the prophecy, Harry comes to a single conclusion: He is most definitely going to die. Well, if he’s going out, then Merlin be damned, he’d go out living his life to the fullest. And what better way to do that than by charming the knickers off of every girl who caught his fancy? Hogwarts isn’t ready for a Boy-Who-Lived with a death wish.

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Chapter 23: Cynical Cyrus

A/N: ALL CHARACTERS PORTRAYED IN THIS WORK ARE 18 YEARS OLD OR ABOVE.

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“You’re far too stiff.”

Harry pointedly ignored his date’s whispered chastisement and continued their waltz across the dancefloor.

“Honestly Potter, at least act like you’ve danced before.” Daphne huffed. Though her face was a practised mask of indifference, Harry was still able to see the glint of amusement in her eyes. Despite her words, she was enjoying their dance which was at least one small win thus far.

Knowing he’d be attending a ball surrounded by various other lords and ladies of high wizarding society, he thought it best to put in a bit more practice than he had for the Yule Ball back in his Fourth Year. Just thinking back to his buried, clumsy steps while hanging desperately onto Parvati made him cringe. Thankfully she didn’t hold that and the rest of hiss pisspoor attitude that night against him, iftheir quite regular tumble in the sheets wwas anything to go by.

Cammi had once again been a godsend when it came to practising. She wasn’t a classical dancer by any means, but was good enough to be an adequate teacher for Harry. Tonks on the other hand…well the metamorph had been adamant that trying to ballroom dance with her would only end up with the two of them on the floor with a broken bone or two. On the battlefield? Tonks was as light on her feet and quicker than anyone else. Off it? Needless to say, the pink-haired witch made newborn fawns look graceful.

Harry turned his attention back to his date. Daphne was a vision as always. Her golden blonde locks were done up in an intricate braid that spilt over her left shoulder. Woven within were small white jewels that Harry had no doubt were real, giving her already dazzling, bright hair an almost ethereal glitter. Her dress was conservative by Muggle standards, but it did nothing to take away from her beauty. The deep, darkened green material spilt down in waves from the tight bodice around her torso. Long sleeves, accentuated by golden thread wrapped themselves up her arms, ending just above the ridge of her shoulders before spilling down to her chest. Harry did not dare to venture his gaze too low. Even as friendly as Daphne and him were, he very much doubted the Ice Queen would tolerate him oogling her tits. Thankfully, before the urge became too tempting, the music began to slow before it finally faded away. Releasing a breath, he released her hand and took a step back, bowing as the blonde had briefed him the day before. Daphne, in turn, curtsied, the faintest whisper of an approving smile gracing her lips before she once more slipped her ever-present mask back into place.

“Thank you for the dance, my lord.” She spoke in a neutral tone.

Harry nodded and offered up his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”

Daphne took his arm and they began to move about the room. It irked him greatly–the never-ending stream of pleasantries and false smiles that greeted him, but it was expected of him under the circumstances. Especially with the ever-present eyes of Cyrus Greengrass upon him. His meeting with the man when he first arrived was quick, but it left Harry with a sense of wariness he had yet to shake. Where the man was now, Harry hadn’t a clue, nor did he know for certain that Cyrus was actually watching him, but Harry knew better than to let his guard down, something both Tonks and, surprisingly, Daphne had been adamant about

“My father gets what he wants in the end. Always.” She had told him. “It’s your job to ensure he can only do so at your leisure. Give him nothing and he will have nothing to fight back against you with.”

Yet it was her answer to Tonks’ question that stuck with him the most. When the metamorph had asked why Daphne was even helping them in the first place, the blonde’s words struck them all. Even now, Harry could hear them repeating in his head, over and over again.

“Because my father’s wants are hardly ever in the best interests of anyone but himself. His daughters included.”

It was the most Daphne had ever shared about her personal life. Sure Harry would say he’d come to know the Slytherin girl pretty well after spending an entire semester as her project partner, but aside from small tidbits about her younger sister or the occasional comment about growing up in a pureblood society, she never really spoke much about herself or her father, for that matter. Perhaps that’s why the comment stuck with him so, or perhaps it was the endless possibility of what her father’s ‘best interests’ were. None of which, that Harry could think of, were particularly nice.

“How long do these things usually go on for?” Harry asked as he passed his packet of cigarettes over to Daphne. They had finally managed to slip away to the gardens and were now sat upon a bench in a small secluded alcove while the sounds of distant chatter and soft classical music filtered through the air.

“Usually till midnight.” Daphne supplied, lighting her cigarette with a snap of her fingers. “Though my father usually doesn’t have the patience for such a drawn-out affair. More than likely, the guests will be asked to leave within the hour.”

“Well at least that’s one thing I can appreciate about him.” He said with a small laugh, lighting his own cigarette with barely a thought.

“Indeed.” Daphne hummed, blowing a small bout of smoke out through her nose. “I highly doubt you’ll be the biggest fan of my father by the night’s end, however.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Probably. At least his daughter is good company.”

Daphne surprised him with a snort, flicking her braid over her shoulder as she looked towards him with an amused smile.

“Was that your attempt at flirting?” She giggled.

“If you think that was me flirting Greengrass then I pity your past romantic experiences.” He chuckled.

“Don’t. They’re hardly worth it.” The blonde drawled. “Most were hardly worthy of my time and the few who were, I soon found them lacking in other ways.” She took another drag of her cigarette before blowing out the smoke with a sigh. “In truth, the amount of real dates I’ve been on I could count with only a single hand and still have four fingers left over. Most would-be suitors always seemed to be under the impression that their family name and an unhealthy amount of arrogance were enough to draw my interest. They were always ever-so disappointed to find out otherwise.”

“I take it some weren’t keen to take no for an answer either?” He asked, calling back to her injured hand from their first meeting.

Daphne scoffed. “Indeed. Though don’t fret Potter. I can more than handle myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” Harry replied, snuffing out the butt of his smoke before incinerating the remains with a pulse of magic. “I just wish I was there to see you kick their arse. Shall we?” He stood with a smirk, offering up his arm in invitation.

Daphne studied him for a moment in silence. Finally the blonde smiled back, taking one last puff of smoke before throwing away the embers and standing as well.

“We shall.” She said, looping her arm through his as they began their walk back up to the ball.

“So who was the bloke who did manage to take you out on a date?”

“A lady never kisses and tells Potter…though whoever said it was a man?”

Daphne’s laughter was the only thing to shake him from his stunned state, as he cursed and hurried to catch up with the mirthful blonde.

-

“Lord Potter. Do come in.” The smooth, silken voice of Cyrus Greengrass called.

Harry straightened and entered the large study. Daphne stayed behind, with a squeeze of his arm and a whispered ‘good luck’. The rich Persian carpet muffled the stiffness of his footsteps as he approached the stoic lord. Cyrus Greengrass wasn’t an imposing man by any means, at least physically. His thin frame and pale complexion, paired with a neatly trimmed blonde beard and thinning hair, made him seem as striking as any other normal witch or wizard. No, it wasn’t his appearance that put Harry on edge, but his eyes. His eyes were piercing, quite similar to Daphne’s own, but where Daphne’s eyes held an ethereal beauty of stunning crystal blue, Cyrus’s were pale and cutting, like razor-sharp ice that had the ability to shred your very being to pieces.

Harry approached the man slowly, doing his best not to show the smallest ounce of hesitation as he gave the older lord a nod of greeting.

“Lord Greengrass, a pleasure.”

The older man smiled as if he’d said something highly amusing before shaking his head. “Of that, I highly doubt. Lord Potter I think we’d work much more efficiently if we dispensed with the lies, yes?”

So it was going to be like that? Fine. Harry much preferred honesty anyway.

“Fine by me. Why am I here Lord Greengrass?” He said with a clipped tone.

Cyrus gestured for him to sit, doing so himself on the other side of the dark ebony wood desk. “What do you know of the last war young man?”

Harry sat and peered at the other man in confusion. “I know enough to know that what Voldemort plans now won’t be good for anyone–pureblood, half-blood, muggleborn–he’ll destroy us all in his quest for power.”

“Of that, we agree.” Harry blinked in surprise as Cyrus continued to speak. “But I did not ask you for your thoughts on the machinations of a madman, I asked you what you knew of the last Wizarding War.” Ice blue eyes peered at him from across the wide desk, though it may as well have been an interrogation table for how Harry felt in that moment.

“I know it was hell.” He spoke after a moment. “I know many people lost their loved ones, their families, and even their own lives.”
“That is putting it mildly.”

The older lord stood and made his way over to a small cabinet embedded within the wall. He unlocked it with a key from his breast pocket before pulling free two objects. In his left was a single ornate liquor decanter, and in his right a small pendant necklace in the shape of a teardrop hung. He threw the necklace forward, the small golden bauble clinging against the desk’s surface before coming to a stop in front of Harry.

“That-” The man began, pulling two glasses from within the cabinet before walking back to the desk. “-is how hellish the war truly was.”

Harry raised a brow and lifted the golden chain up in confusion. “You were forced to wear cheap jewellery?” He asked dryly.

Cyrus surprised him with a bark of laughter before sitting and pouring two glasses of the swirling red-brown liquor. “If only. No Lord Potter that–” He said, gesturing to the necklace. “--Is a capsule of Woman’s Wept. One of the more deadlier poisons known today. Break that capsule between your teeth and you’ll be dead in under a minute.”

Harry sat the necklace back down warily, pushing it away for good measure as he glared back up at the older lord. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because that is the very capsule my wife would have used to end her own life should the need have arisen.”

Well that certainly was…unexpected. 

“I—Why? I thought your house was as pure blood as they come.”

“Indeed.” Cyrus nodded. “But as you said, blood purity matters very little to that man. It’s nothing more than a tool he utilises to spread hate and gain more power.” The elder wizards sighed and took his seat. “During the first war, House Greengrass remained wholly neutral. I was a young man then—foolish in my ways. I believed if I simply ignored the war, then the horrors it wrought would never reach me and mine. As you can see-“ He gestured towards the necklace. “-My Isabelle was far wiser than I. The dark lord would have punished all who did not join him—Whether they truly fought against him or not, and knowing him, it would not have been clean.”

“And now you’re faced with the same circumstances.” Harry summarised. “Only now you know a choice needs to be made.”

Cyrus nodded, swirling the amber liquor in his glass. “On one hand, I have no interest in his followers’ cause. Make no mistake, I have no love for the muggles, but I also have no real qualms over their continued existence. However, I do have a heavy interest in the continuation of my house, and with the current state of things, the safest place for my family seems to be by the Dark Lord’s side.”

Harry tried not to grimace in disgust at the blatant admission from the older lord. Cyrus Greengrass may play the part of the decisive planner, but to Harry his words thus far only sounded of pure cowardice. It didn’t bode well for the future of his conversation with the man.

“Then what’s stopping you from kneeling at the bastard's feet and grovelling for mercy?” Harry snapped.

The blonde man’s eyes flashed dangerously, yet Harry was far too annoyed to rightly give a damn. He’s faced down far scarier than Cyrus bloody Greengrass and for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he was so fucking wary of the man before.

“I see my daughter’s tales of your…audacity were not unfounded.”

Harry gave the man a shrug. “You wanted honesty. Now are you going to answer the question or should I just assume this entire meeting to be a waste of bloody time?”

Cyrus gave a grunt of irritation before lifting his glass to down the remainder of his drink in a single gulp.

“House Greengrass does not kneel boy—and I’d rather survive this war with that belief still intact rather than shackled like slaves to the will of a power-hungry oligarch.”

“So you come to me. I’m honoured.” Harry scoffed. “And what do you think I can offer you that Voldemort can’t?”

“In truth? Very little. But there’s a reason the Dark Lord fears you…And I’d like to know why.”

Harry felt his anger cool into icy suspicion. Something about the way Cyrus spoke…like he knew more than he was letting on. The question was, how much did he know?

“Voldemort doesn’t fear me.” He said with a scoff, but unfortunately, the words didn’t sound believable even to him. Cyrus obviously came to the same conclusion as his mouth twisted into a knowing smirk, and the man leaned forward with steepled fingers.

“My dear Lord Potter, I thought we agreed not to lie to one another.”

-

Cammi blew a strand of hair from her face as she watched Tonks flick aimlessly through the channels on her telly.

“So, how do you think it’s going?” She asked after a beat.

The other woman shrugged, switching off the telly with a sigh as she sat up. “Knowing Wonder Boy? He’s probably either pissed old Greengrass off, or become best friends with the bloke by now. Who knows?”

Cammi sighed and slumped back into her couch. She always hated waiting. Didn’t matter what it was for. Waiting in line at her favourite cafe, waiting for the work day to end, waiting, waiting, waiting. She loathed it wholly and with every fibre of her being. Waiting for her boyfriend to come home after a meeting weith some snobbish dick head lord was no different. Though she did wonder…when had she started thinking of her flat as her and Harry’s ‘home’?

Looking around, it was quite obvious that someone else besides her lived here. All her old band posters and Polaroid photos of her and her friends were still hung upon her walls, but they were now joined by pictures of her and Harry, with the occasional snapshot of Tonks in the mix with her signature wolfish smile. Another coat hung next to hers on the rung, and right next to that one, Cammi knew also hung an invisible cloak that she most certainly did not play with when Harry wasn’t around. Nope! That would just be childish…

Hints of Harry popped up everywhere she looked. The flowers on the coffee table he brought home from their stay in magical Sweden. The occasional book about magical defence or Quidditch splayed haphazardly across the kitchen counter. Even the absence of her usual piles of clothes along the floor marked Harry’s presence. Her boyfriend had the odd habit of cleaning when he couldn’t sleep, which was most nights, unfortunately. He never told her the reason directly behind that particular habit, but he had shared enough about the Dursleys for Cammi to make an educated guess.

God, if she ever got the chance, she’d tear those miserable lumps of flesh a new one…

Before her thoughts could spiral further, her fireplace suddenly flared to life with great green flames before a familiar figure with messy black hair stumbled from the hearth. Floo travel was definitely another thing she’d have to wrap her head around eventually.

Standing quickly, she wasted no time in wrapping her boyfriend in a crushing hug before catching his lips in an even deeper kiss. 

“Miss me?” He murmured against her lips, his smile somehow causing her heart to flutter even after all these months.

“Hmm, just a little.” She smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes and gave her another quick peck. She extracted herself from his arms shortly after, allowing him to remove the outer layer of his dress robes with a huff.

“So how’d it go? Cyrus throw his lot in with you or…?” Tonks spoke up.

The shift from smiling to immediate annoyance was stark enough that Cammi was sure she wasn’t going to like what he said next.

“Sort of.”

…Well that was a bit unexpected.

Harry sighed and flopped down onto the couch, looking far more tired than a man his age had any right to be. “He won’t outwardly support us, though I never really expected him to. But he’s agreed to fight alongside the Order and stall the Pureblood Supremacist movement in any way he can within the political theatre.”

“That’s…good though, isn’t it?” Cammi asked. The way his frown deepened only served to increase her worry.

“Yeah, fan-fucking-tastic. At least until he told me his conditions.” Harry hissed. “House Greengrass will only fight against Voldemort if I agree to his concession.”

“And that would be…?” Tonks trailed off.

Harry swallowed thickly and cast his gaze down, unwilling to meet Cammi’s eyes.

“A betrothal. Between me and one of his daughters.”

Oh.

Oh

“What the fuck?”

“Cammi-“

She ignored Harry in lieu of jumping to her feet with a snarl of fury.

“What the fuck?! Betrothal?! What kind of arrogant, backwards, selfish…CUNT proposes that kind of deal?!” 

“A Pureblood one.” Tonks replied dryly. “It’s an outdated concept in the Muggle world, but in the magical one, the old rich families still utilise the practice of marriage contracts and other nuptial agreements.”

“That’s fucking barbaric!” Cammi spat. “And now he’s forcing Harry into a contract with his own daughter?! Father of the fucking year that one!”

She was shaking now. There was so much anger roaring in her veins that she could hardly stop herself from trembling with rage. It wasn’t fucking right! In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to strangle Cyrus Greengrass with her own two bloody hands.

Her thoughts of homicide were brought to an abrupt end when Harry’s arms found themselves wound tightly around her midsection, bringing her into a tight grounding hug.

“You’re right. And he’s loony if he thinks I’ll ever agree to that.” He whispered in her ear.

Cammi could only hug him tighter in response, her emotions still broiling in an unregulated mess inside her. It was overwhelming. She needed to calm down–needed something to temper the turmoil inside her. But what?

Her answer was found for her when Harry brushed his lips against hers in what was supposed to be a comforting kiss. Yet the second their lips connected, Cammi let out a whimper of need, every sense in her body all calling out for one thing. Whether Harry was expecting her to suddenly jump into his arms was whoever’s guess. Cammi was simply happy enough that he almost immediately began carrying her back to their bedroom.

Their bedroom. It was theirs, meaning that he was hers and hers alone. Well…almost alone.

Tonks’ hands joining her own reminded the raven-haired vixen that she didn’t mind sharing. What she did mind was when someone wanted to shove their greedy hands where they didn’t belong. She wouldn’t stand for that. Harry’s was hers, and no high and mighty wizarding prick was going to change that.

“I love you.” She cooed as he pierced her folds. The pleasure was just as intense as it always was, but to Cammi there was a deeper edge to every hitch of breath and gasp. Her hands found their way into his hair as she pulled him into a desperate kiss, her body eager for every bit of contact she could get. “I love you.” She moaned once more.

Harry answered by increasing his thrusts. His cock was merciless, stretching her pussy to such blissful extremes that Cammi had a hard time staying lucid. Tears prickled at her eyes as the well of emotions in her chest finally uncoiled with her first shuddering orgasm. A pair of lips descended upon her cheeks before they could freely spill, however, and Cammi turned to see Tonks lying beside her, a warm smile on the metamorph’s face as she kissed the tears from Cammi’s face. Though it was different from what she felt for Harry–more in the sense of a good friend than a lover–Cammi realised that she felt love for the pink-haired witch as well.

“Tonks-” She whispered, pulling her friend in for a kiss just as Harry’s cock tipped her over the edge once more. This time, there were no tears to strangle her sobs of euphoria, only the tongue of another woman deep inside her mouth as sweet, sweet pleasure tore through her being. She was pretty sure her nails had carved into the other woman’s back but before she could be sure, Harry was pulling free from her folds, and her view of the world changed.

“Oh fuuuuccckkk-” Cammi gasped as her pussy was split apart once more. She buried her face into her pillows just as a sharp smack crashed against her left cheek. She was acutely aware of Tonks’ tongue joining the fray, circling around her arsehole just as Harry’s thrusts began to pick up pace. God, she was in heaven. Every inch of her body was alight with pleasure as her two most precious holes were being in equal parts used and worshipped by her two eager lovers.

“Yes~” She cried. “Yes! Yes! Oh fuck YESSS!”

Her gushing juices were joined by Harry’s own as her third orgasm triggered his first. Thick heavy ropes of cum painted the interior of her womb. The feeling of his seed inside her triggered another surge of emotion inside Cammi’s chest, yet this time she let the tears fall freely in happiness as Harry pulled free from her folds.

“Uhm Cams-” Cammi turned to face Tonks from where the metamorph had whispered at her side. “-You don’t mind if I..uhm…” She trailed off, gesturing towards where Harry still knelt, cock hardened and ready for more.

Cammi giggled and waved the other woman off. She snorted as Tonks’s face broke out in a wide grin, the pink-haired minx giggling in excitement as she all but pounced onto Harry. Within moments, the combined sounds of their lovemaking reached Cammi’s ears, bringing a fond smile to the raven-haired woman’s face.

No, she certainly didn’t mind sharing, but she’d be damned if she let anyone threaten to take HArry away from her.

-

Author’s Note

It’s been a little bit since my last update to this story, too long in my opinion! Little bit of a more emotion heavy chapter with a bit of scheming thrown in. We’ll just have to see where this all plays out, hmm?

Thanks for reading!