Hogsmeade Inn ch.1

Harry Potter gazed out at the rolling hills of Scotland near Hogwarts. The mountain air was brisk, and this place, he believed, must be one of the most beautiful spots he had ever seen. It had been a few weeks since he received the shocking news of his grandfather Charlus' passing, who left him a small estate in this remote land. Harry wasn't particularly close to the old man and had no idea that Charlus owned property in England.

Yet here he was, driving into a small mountain town in England, ready to take over a business he knew absolutely nothing about. Approaching his thirtieth birthday, his life hadn't unfolded as he had expected. He found himself stuck in a dead-end job, struggling to make ends meet and perpetually lonely—his twenties were nothing like he had envisioned. When he received the news, he thought, "Screw it. Let's move back to England and see what happens. I've got nothing to lose."

As he pulled up to the traditional magical inn, Harry began to question the wisdom of his decision. He double-checked the address, and it was definitely the right place. But it looked like a complete dump. Paint was peeling, windows were boarded up, and wild weeds grew around the entrance. It looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic horror film.

"This place is going to need a ton of work," Harry muttered to himself. "What have you gotten yourself into, Harry?" He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I need a damn drink. Then I can start worrying about what the hell I've gotten myself into."

Harry followed the winding, picturesque road into town. When he parked his car, the first thing he noticed was the serenity of this place. There were hardly any cars on the streets, as if English wizards were still living in the medieval era, and no one was rushing to work. It was quiet, peaceful, and Harry couldn't help but appreciate it.

He stepped out of the car, taking in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. Maybe Hogsmeade wasn't as bad as it seemed. Along the main road, there were a few small shops and restaurants, each with unique decorations and signs. One shop caught his eye—a charming little place called the Greenhouse Cafe. His stomach rumbled at that moment, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the international Portkey.

Without hesitation, Harry walked in. As soon as he opened the door, he was hit with the aroma of fresh coffee and sweet pastries, making his mouth water. Surprisingly, the cafe was bustling for such a small town, and most tables were occupied by locals engaged in lively conversations over cups of coffee.

Harry made his way to the counter where a charming Englishwoman awaited him. She was dressed in a fitted white blouse with a few buttons undone, and her long blonde hair had a streak of fiery red. "Welcome to Greenhouse Cafe! What can I get for you, sir?" she asked in flawless French.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. His English was almost non-existent, and he couldn't help but question his decision to move to a country where he hardly knew the language. "Hi! Um, let's see."

He glanced at the menu board, all in English. Right, that made sense. Fortunately, there were a few pictures for people like him. "Could I please have a latte and one of those delicious apple pies?" he asked.

"Of course, sir!" the cheerful girl replied. "Please have a seat, and I'll bring it right over."

Harry sat at a small wooden table near the window, admiring the breathtaking view of the mountains. This place was truly stunning, and he was beginning to understand why his grandfather had chosen to live here.

The one puzzle he hadn't solved yet was: Why him? Why did his grandfather leave him this inn? He wasn't close to the old man. His father and grandfather had a falling out, and as a result, Harry rarely spoke to his grandfather. He wasn't complaining about the opportunity, but he was deeply perplexed.

A few minutes later, the lovely girl placed a steaming cup of coffee and a hot apple pie in front of him. "Here you go," she said, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him.

"Thank you, um..." Harry glanced at her name tag. "Daphne."

"You're welcome," Daphne replied.

Daphne paused at his table with a mischievous smile on her lips. "So, you're here for the inn, right?" she said.

"Is it that obvious?" Harry chuckled. "Yes."

"There aren't too many outsiders in Hogsmeade," Daphne replied, gesturing toward the bustling cafe's customers. "This town is full of old fogies."

Harry nearly spilled his coffee, laughing. "Oh, wow. Yeah, I can see that."

Without asking, Daphne sat across from him. "What's your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, and her gorgeous lips curled into a familiar smile. "Harry Potter," she repeated. "You're Charlus's grandson."

"You knew my grandfather?"

"Everyone here knows him, yes."

She leaned back in her chair, twirling a strand of hot pink hair between her fingers, clearly enjoying teasing him. "Can you tell me something about him? Or about the inn, if you prefer?" Harry asked.

"I can."

"Are you going to?"

"Maybe," Daphne giggled. "What's in it for me?"

"I don't know. What do you want?" Harry asked, feeling a bit flustered.

"A date," Daphne replied.

This time, Harry truly spilled his coffee on his pants. A date! This girl was crazy!

"I'll help you!" Daphne sprang into action, kneeling beside Harry and patting him down with a napkin.

"Okay," Harry stammered.

"No, no, let me help," Daphne insisted, running her hands over his inner thighs. Harry could see her white blouse, and her magnificent, full breasts jiggled as she rubbed him.

Nature took its course.

Harry's arousal stiffened as she caressed her perfect hands over his thighs and groin. Daphne felt his hardness, but instead of backing away, she continued to rub. She glanced at him and bit her lower lip.

Harry looked up with wide eyes to check if anyone was watching them. To his relief, no one paid them any attention. All the older folks were sipping coffee and chatting, completely unaware that this gorgeous bombshell was rubbing herself in the middle of this damn cafe.

"So, is that it?" Daphne asked as her hand rested on his throbbing bulge.

"Yes, sure," Harry replied with a trembling voice.

"Good," she smiled. "My shift ends at five. See you later, Frenchy."

Daphne gave his bulge a squeeze and stood up. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breath was heavy. She winked at him as she returned to her counter, leaving Harry completely stunned.

What the hell just happened?

Was he dreaming? Did he have hallucinations from the side effects of the international Portkey?

No, Daphne's scent still lingered at his table. It really happened. Damn hell.

Harry devoured his apple pie and sipped the remaining coffee, waiting for his pulsating erection to subside. He couldn't walk around this crowded cafe with a full-on erection. Every few seconds, he stole glances at Daphne, and each time he did, another surge of blood flowed downward.

Just then, as he thought he was finally ready, the bell above the door rang. In walked an absolutely stunning Englishwoman. She had long black hair and light brown eyes, and Harry estimated her to be around forty years old. She wore tight jeans and a shirt that hugged her curves in all the right places.

Daphne greeted the woman with a wide smile and a hug. Clearly, they knew each other well. To Harry's surprise, Daphne gestured towards him. He was certain he looked like a deer caught in headlights as two pretty women stared straight at him.

The mature woman waved. Harry's heart quickened as he waved back.

Daphne said something, and the woman burst into a wide, beautiful smile.

Did Daphne tell her that she was driving him crazy? The mature woman approached his table, her wide hips swaying with each step.

"Hello," she said with a polite nod.

"Hi," Harry replied.

He really needed to work on his English.

"Daphne told me you're Harry, Charlus's son. Is that true?"

While Daphne had incredibly sexy energy, this woman exuded grace and politeness. She didn't give off the impression that she'd try to flirt with him under the table. But who knew? Today seemed like it might turn out to be crazy!

"Well, actually, I'm his grandson, but yes. I'm related to Charlus."

"Oh, grandson, I see. My apologies. I'm Bellatrix. I was a friend of your grandfather's. May I sit?"

"Please do."

She sat down and extended her delicate hand for Harry to shake. As soon as he touched it, an electric shiver ran through him. Bellatrix smiled.

"You have Charlus's eyes." She reached into her purse and pulled out a notebook.

"So, you knew my grandfather well?"

If she had insisted on a date as well, Harry would have thought he was losing his mind. On the other hand, it didn't sound too bad. This woman had something soothing about her. He bet hugging her was amazing.

"Yes, we were very close. Let me see."

She rummaged through several papers and forms, all written in English. Harry watched her for a moment, feeling disoriented.

"May I ask what you're doing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm looking for the right documents. Charlus asked me to help you when you arrived in town."

"Help me? So, he knew I'd agree? That's crazy."

"Yes, he believed you would."

She slid a few stacks of papers in front of Harry. He looked at them, but to him, they might as well have been Egyptian hieroglyphs.

"I'm afraid I can't read these."

"I apologize! These are all documents related to the Wild Inn. The notarized deed, outstanding payments, and access to your grandfather's bank account."

"Wait, what?"

Harry looked at the papers again and saw several large numbers.

"Yes. Didn't Charlus's message specify that?"

He tried to recall exactly what the letter contained, but everything was a bit blurry. It was buried at the bottom of his suitcase somewhere. He hadn't been thinking very clearly when he packed up and moved halfway across the continent; now it was starting to become clear to him.

"I don't remember," Harry said, feeling embarrassed.

"It doesn't matter," Bellatrix said. "You're here now, and I'll help you. Have you visited the bar yet?"

"I just arrived. I saw what condition it's in and decided I needed a coffee first."

Bellatrix chuckled. "Yes, it does need some work, but you're a strong, young man. I'm sure you'll have it up and running in no time."

This woman seemed to have a lot of trust in him. Meanwhile, Harry was struggling to assemble an IKEA cabinet.

He scratched the back of his head. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Shall we go and check, Harry?"

"Sure, why not."

Harry tried to pay for the coffee and pastry at the counter, but Bellatrix interrupted him. "No, no," she said. "You don't pay here."

"It's really not a problem."

"No, you're our guest, and you won't pay in our café."

"Our café?"

"Mine and Daphne's, yes," Bellatrix said. "Come on."

She led him to the exit. Behind her, Daphne looked at him, smiled, and raised her hand. The message was clear. She was closing at five.

That was when they were supposed to have their date.

Instead of heading to the inn, Bellatrix insisted on taking a short trip up into the mountains. Harry was beginning to feel the effects of traveling by Portkey for over fifteen minutes, and he was exhausted, especially since the elixir that prevented him from vomiting after Portkey travel for a few hours, like a kneazle, was starting to wear off. But he could follow that ample behind in tight jeans anywhere, so he let her lead the way.

As they walked, they engaged in conversation. Bellatrix told him all about the small town of Hogsmeade and its rich history. This place, nestled in the mountains, had remained largely untouched by time and Muggles. During their hike, they passed a bathhouse, a small grocery store, and an ancient temple dedicated to the gods of old wizards.

"Let's stop here for a moment," Bellatrix said as they passed a small stream. She sat on a bench, took off her shoes, and dipped her feet in the water. She gestured for Harry to do the same.

He followed her lead, and the cold water felt refreshing on his feet. In front of them, a magnificent view of the valley stretched out. The single, winding road that led up and down the mountain was the only way in and out of this place. It was so far away from all the troubles of Harry's life back home.

"Why did you come here, Harry?" Bellatrix asked, looking at him. "Charlus insisted that you agree, and I wasn't so sure about it. Life in Paris must be much more exciting than in some boring mountain town."

"Boring? Are you kidding me? This has been the most exciting day of my life," Harry exclaimed. "Really? How so?"

He was about to say, "That hot girl in the café was hitting on me," like a total idiot, but his sleep-deprived brain realized just in time that he shouldn't start like that. "Uh, reasons."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. "Daphne," she said. "I should have known."

His cheeks turned red. How did these Englishwomen read him like an open book? Did they possess mind control along with their stunning looks?

"This town is too small for Daphne," Bellatrix sighed. "She's only 20, but still as mischievous as ever. It's good you're here, Harry. Hogsmeade needs some fresh blood. I just hope you weren't expecting a bustling party scene, because that's not what we have to offer."

"I'm not much of a party person," Harry said. "Beautiful nature and wonderful women are all I need."

Wait, did he just say that out loud?

Bellatrix laughed heartily. It was a warm sound that made his stomach flutter. "You also have Charlus's charm, Harry. But you haven't answered my question yet. Why did you come all the way here?"

"I was looking for adventure. My job was leading me nowhere. Rent was out of control, so I was saving nothing. The dating scene is terrible right now. I guess I wanted a fresh start."

"So, no girlfriend?" Bellatrix tilted her head. "No," he replied.

She nodded. It seemed like there were gears turning in her mind, but he was too tired to find out what exactly.

"Let's keep going. We're close to the bar." "Sure."

Harry followed Bellatrix uphill. It was already noon, and the sun was shining brightly. Sweat was running down his back, and he was starting to see spots, but he didn't want to say anything. This woman believed she could restore an old, rundown building and turn it into a thriving, profitable inn with just her two hands.

He didn't want to break that spell. Being around her made him feel like he might be capable of more than just ticking off more checkboxes in a stuffy office on the outskirts of the city.

"Harry, are you okay? Harry? Harry?!"

Bellatrix's voice grew increasingly frantic, and the dark spots in his vision became more intense. What was rushing towards his face? It looked familiar.

Oh, yes.

It was the ground.