Susan in detention with Harry

Hey - a silly little story scene and art for you. Don't take it (and the phone) too seriously, it's a bit of fun just for this piece. Thanks to all you new patrons and the old ones too - next chapter on Friday, of course.

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Susan sighed, tapping her quill against the inkpot. She stared mournfully out of the window, where the Hogwarts students were enjoying their lunch break. 

Harry could sympathize. Snowball fights, snowman making, seventh years selling ice slushies by the lake. Lunch-time in the winter was one of the best times of year.

Which made lunch-time detentions one of the worst to get. They’d got detention from Professor Flitwick of all people, who was usually the easiest teacher to deal with.

Tracy had caught Harry flicking charms at Daphne to float her skirt up, trying to catch another glance of her bountiful bum. Tracy hit him with a Brain-Rattling Curse, which Flitwick hadn’t seen, but when Harry answered with a Banishing Charm to send his inkpot all over her, the part-goblin had caught him.

Which meant he was here, in detention in the Charms classroom. They’d been ordered to grade first-year paperwork, which was annoying, since it wasn’t like cleaning cauldrons, couldn’t be sped up with magic.

Flitwick had left them alone with a stern warning that he’d be checking the grades given.

The paperwork was very, very boring. But aside from Susan, there wasn’t much to occupy his gaze. On the wall was a detention register, a tally of all who accrued detentions in Flitwick’s class. Flitwick hadn’t gathered that Fred and George had been using it as a competition before they left Hogwarts. Seamus was in third, mostly because Flitwick didn’t seem to buy his insistence that Feck was an Irish cultural word and not a swear word.

Harry rubbed his head painfully. Tracy’s Brain-Rattler had given him a serious headache.

“Serves you right, from what I heard.” Susan sniffed. “Just because she’s a Slytherin doesn’t mean you can play a prank like that, Harry. Our skirt flying up is like a girl’s worst nightmare.” 

“Yeah, yeah. What are you in for?” Harry asked.

“Nothing.” Susan scowled. “Just do the paperwork. I’ve done my half.” 

“You gave someone a top mark for calling the incantation for the Levitation Charm, Wingardium Mimosa.”

Susan waved him away distractedly. “He had the spell theory right.” 

“Mimosa’s a drink.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Why did you get detention. Tell meee,” Harry sang.

Susan huffed. “I had an argument with Hannah in class, okay? Leave it there.”

“But she’s your bestie.” 

“I know, that doesn’t mean she’s not annoying.” 

“Did she tell you about the Lethifold conspiracy again?”

Susan’s lips twitched. “Does she do that to you too?”

“Lethifolds are shape-shifters and have replaced some of the elites in society.” Harry said sagely.

“I don’t know how I put up with her.” Susan said fondly.

“Because you love her. What did you argue about?” 

“We didn’t argue,” Susan relented. “I just told her to mind her own business. Like, I don’t want to know if she got fucked so hard she can barely walk, or how many times she came, or how long it went on for.” 

Harry wiggled his eyebrows. “A long time.” 

“Don’t you start.” Susan threatened. “And even when she didn’t talk, she just sat there looking smug.” The redhead rolled her eyes. “And she just looks ridiculous. Like, she literally can’t walk up any stairs without flashing her panties. And then she wonders why McGonagall keeps giving her detention.” 

“I think she looks lovely.” Harry said innocently.

“Yeah, you would.” Susan scoffed. “Her blouse is straining harder than…than Draco trying not to call Hermione a mudblood.” 

Harry snorted. “Than Snape trying to walk without swishing his cape.” 

“Than Neville trying not to blow up a potion—alright, stop it,” Susan scowled. “I’m trying to be mad at you.” 

“Sorry,” Harry grinned.

“Just, ugh.” She sighed. “I don’t want to think about you, or Hannah, or you and Hannah and the nasty things you do. Just keep your eyes and your dick over there.” 

“I’ll be over here.” Harry promised.

Susan sighed again, staring out of the window. She was a vision, a regulation Hogwarts blouse struggling to contain her bust, a short plaid miniskirt riding up her long bare legs. In the winter sun, her red hair looked beautifully light.

A vision that he couldn’t touch, Harry thought regretfully. The more unreachable she was, the more he wanted her. Who’d have thunk that offering her Lady Potter, having her best friend talk about how good his dick was, being super rich and famous, all that wouldn’t be enough?

He was better off when he was pretending to be an injured charity case in the enormous bathtub of her manor. That thought made him pick up his phone and scroll to his gallery. His folder named Wank Bank.

Hermione had fixed this phone up for him — it barely worked, the screen was fuzzy, it didn’t make calls or connect to the Internet, but it held the pictures he’d taken. Some of them he’d had to take in Cissy’s Pensieve, since he didn’t take them at the time, but that was fun too.

Cissy had enjoyed seeing him put Apolline in her place, the first time. 

He scrolled past his big library of pictures. Endless photos of Cissy, because she’d insisted on him having a digital copy of all of the photos she’d made for him. Cissy bent over, Cissy fingering herself, Cissy in a corset, Cissy in the bath.

Apolline sunbathing in France, first in skimpy little suits, and then wearing nothing at all, just sun lotion.

Even Hermione had taken some — her in her Yule Ball dress, straps pulled far down her shoulders.

Finally, he found the picture of Susan in her bath-tub, all those months ago. She was a beauty.

“What are you grinning at?” Susan demanded.

“N-nothing.” Harry said, tilting his phone. Trying to be sly, he held the phone up against her, even as she looked at him in bemusement.

Those tits, those curves, the shape of her — he had to have her. For a moment, he imagined that he could just press a button on the phone, a button that would strip her clothes off, make her horny, make her his. 

If only it were that easy.

No. If he wanted to get into the most undroppable pair of panties in all of Hogwarts, he had to be slick.

“I’m ah, just reviewing my charity. The Potter Foundation, the portfolio. Seeing what we can provide to the needy, you know?” 

“Oh?” Susan sat up with interest. “What are you funding? What are the main pillars of the charity?” 

Harry looked down at the photo on his phone, at the wet pair of titties. “Um, well, it’s not so much pillars as like, two peaks, you know? Like mountains.” 

“Right!” She said enthusiastically. “The classic choice of charities between fundraising or activism, and which to lean towards more.” 

“Y-yes!” Harry said with relief. He looked down at the photo again, feeling hot. “So we’re just trying to make a slick bounce, uh, advert for our poleraising campaign—” 

“Poleraising?”

“Fundraising,” He corrected hastily. “Like, how we can make things wet.” 

“Wet?” 

“Make it rain, I mean. With money. For the orphans.” Harry winced.

Susan frowned at him, shaking her head. “I think Tracy rattled your head pretty bad, Harry.” 

Harry grinned loopily, thinking back to the handjob she and Hannah had given him, how close they’d come to sucking him. “Yeah, head. I love head.”