Katie's morning (short scene)

Katie hissed as she waded into the lake. Despite the morning sun beginning to warm her skin, the water was chilly enough to make her shiver. It felt good on her aching muscles, though — she wouldn’t miss her early morning exercise with Harry, but it wasn’t easy on her body.

She smiled to herself, running a finger down her muscled abdomen to her athletic short-shorts. Thanks to him, she was in the best shape she’d ever been. She’d never realized sex was such a workout, but now she was very frequently bending over to touch her ankles, throwing it back on Harry, or riding him like she was possessed, utilizing every one of her thigh muscles to squeeze him in just the right way…

Katie shook her head. She had to pull herself together. The roosters were crowing, the sun was above the trees, and Hogwarts was waking up. She had to wash off all of Harry’s seed and get back to the Great Hall in time for breakfast.

This was her new routine — Harry, bless him, never gave her enough time to get back to the Common Room for a shower. She thought he rather liked seeing her try and hide her debauched self, trying to sneak through Hogwarts. Now, though, she just washed herself semi-clean in the lake, letting all the cream slither off her, and then headed back into Hogwarts.

It didn’t help everything — there was no hiding the lovebites on her neck, the limp in her walk, or the rosy glow in her cheeks. But at least Harry wasn’t dripping down her thighs in front of her friends, or Professor McGonagall, or the firsties…

She closed her eyes, smiling as she thought of how her morning had gone. Harry was so passionate, so demanding, drilling her on the grass…if only he’d finally take her bottom—

“Miss Bell?” A loud throat cleared.

Katie’s eyes snapped open in panic. It was Professor McGonagall. “P-Professor?”

“What are you doing?” Her Head of House was gazing at her dubiously.

Katie glanced down at herself, relieved that Harry’s seed had mostly washed away. The lake water around her was suspiciously white, but McGonagall wouldn’t notice that…but her stomach gurgled. She was still inflated from Harry’s quim-filling gallons, his cream sloshing about inside of her, and she was struggling to hold it in.

Don’t ooze out, please.

She only wore her shorts, no knickers — if she couldn’t hold the river back, McGonagall would see everything.

“Just, um, washing the water off from my run, Professor.”

The Professor sighed. “I see. Have you seen anything odd on your run?”

“No?”

“You’re quite sure.”

Katie blinked. She was sure — unless McGonagall counted Harry’s python, as long as her arm, smacking down on her face…or the sight of her own pelvis, bulging out as she was stretched. “Pretty sure, Professor. What’s this about?”

McGonagall frowned. “All week, I’ve heard students complaining about ghostly noises in the morning, carried by the wind.”

“Ghostly noises?”

“Screaming, wailing, sobbing,” she glanced around, wand in hand. “Don’t tell the young children, but I’m worried we might have some banshees around.”

Katie swallowed, red-faced. She knew exactly who had been screaming, wailing and sobbing. “I’ll…I’ll keep an eye out on my runs, Professor.”

Please leave. Go, go, go. She couldn’t hold it any longer.

“I know you’re always up and about early.” McGonagall said approvingly. “I do admire a witch with morning discipline. Why don’t we walk back to the castle together? I’d like to hear about your plans after Hogwarts.”

“T-thank you, Professor. I’ll…I’ll follow you back to the castle in a minute, okay? I need to clean up.”

“You’re already clean, Miss Bell.” McGonagall smiled with amusement. “Don’t be shy — I’m not going to bite. I’ll always have time for one of my star chasers, after all.”

“But, but, but—” Katie cradled her stomach as she felt her muscles loosen, unable to keep herself contracted. The wet squelch was loud as Harry’s seed began to ooze out, and once the ooze began, it quickly became a sloppy waterfall.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t look—” But it was too late. She could feel the thick dense man-made yoghurt slipping out of the hem of her shorts, down her thighs, squelching out, unmistakable in what it was.

“Good Merlin.” McGonagall whispered.

Katie squeezed her water bottle, panting, too humiliated to even look at the Professor. “I’m, I’m sorry—”

“Miss Bell…I, fraternizing with a boy, where anyone could see you, betraying the freedoms I gave you to go for your runs—” McGonagall stammered, too shocked to summon her usual anger.

“It’s Harry.” Katie blurted. “It’s for Harry. It’s me, it’s Harry, and there’s no banshee…it’s all me!” She cried, wiping her eyes.

McGonagall was silent. When Katie dared look at her face, she saw that the old Scottish woman’s expression was unexpectedly soft.

“How is he?” She asked.

Katie did a double-take. “What?”

“I know there’s so much weight on the poor boy’s shoulders.” McGonagall said sadly. “I suppose he’s up so early because he can’t sleep, so stressed.”

Katie’s mouth opened and closed. Harry was only up early because he was a horny bugger — and he only sought Katie out on her morning runs because Hermione was passed out from being rutted like a rabbit the night before. “I…”

“I’m just glad that he has some relief.” McGonagall jabbed a finger at her. “Make sure you treat him well, Miss Bell.”

Treat him well? She’d been face-first in the muddy banks of the lake, bottom up, while he hammer-pounded her from behind! “…I will, Professor.”

The Professor cleared her throat, pointing her nose in the air. “I suppose Mister Potter is a virile boy, so make sure you get some breakfast.”

Katie stared in disbelief as her Head of House departed, leaving her in the lake, a litre of Harry running down her thighs. Had the stern woman just given her permission to bonk?

Hogwarts was like a fever dream. Professor Sinistra sent her packing from the Astronomy Tower, just so she could steal Harry for herself. Hermione was filthier than a Veela. And McGonagall was giving her an official smash-pass.

Katie drank some water from her bottle and then paused, as a horrifying thought washed over her.

Surely not…

Was the reason McGonagall was being so nice…the reason she was giving her permission to get penetrated by Harry’s big broomstick every morning…because she was one of Harry’s girls?

Katie gasped. It was the only explanation for the Scottish broad’s bizarre kindness.

Harry Potter was giving it to the old lady. He’d mastered the art of Transfiguration…and now he’d pulled off his most astonishing magic yet. He’d transfigured the prim old lady into a shameless slut.