Chapter 2 – Be Discreet

It’s a Hogwarts cliché straight out of one of Romilda’s smutty paperbacks, but I never thought anyone actually lost their virginity on Leavers’ Ball night.

Then it happened to me.

Since we were all painfully single, the plan was for Hermione, Ron, Padma, Demelza, Romilda and me to go to the Leavers’ Ball as a group, no dates, no fuss. We’d hoped Hannah might come along too, but given that her mum still didn’t quite know she hung out with blokes outside of class, the Ball turned out to be a difficult sell.

The weeks slid by in the run-up to the big night, NEWTs in the mornings, the Ball at the end. I sat my last few exams in the usual fog, thinking about my afternoon with Lavender and Parvati often, more often than I should have. Sometimes late at night up in the dorm I’d pull the DA Galleon out of my trunk, start to scratch out a message.

But she’d made it pretty clear nothing else was going to happen, so I’d always lose my nerve and settle for taking care of myself, with the vivid memory of Lavender’s mouth around my cock and Parvati’s stiff nipples poking through her vest floating behind my eyelids.

I’d always been good at keeping secrets, but this one felt like it was burning a hole in my stomach. I practically wanted to scream it into the Great Hall. Who could I possibly tell? Ron was out of the question, obviously. As Lavender had reminded me, she was still his ex, and while I was fairly sure he was over her, he really didn’t need to know this.

Hannah was out too. She wasn’t as straitlaced as her mum, but she could still go a bit pink and quiet about anything to do with sex.

Definitely not Hermione, either, even though I told her practically everything. Given her past Hogsmeade ask, it just didn’t seem right. Padma was so shy it’d just make her uncomfortable. Demelza was a bit unpredictable about keeping secrets, but I wouldn’t half mind seeing her face when she found out. And then there was Romilda.

Romilda was by far the most experienced of any of my friends, as far as I knew, and she was completely shameless about talking about it. It only took until the night before the Ball for it to all bubble over.

I dug the two-way mirror out from under my pillow. I’d bought a pair from George at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes back in March, two Galleons apiece. Romilda had the other one. I’d been using it mostly to swap stupid jokes after lights-out, but tonight I had something else in mind. I tapped the glass and said her name.

The mirror frosted over briefly, then her face filled the surface, propped up on her pillow, no makeup on, blonde hair loose. Her freckled chest was a bit more visible than I usually got over the mirror.

“Hi, lovely.”

“Can I tell you something mad?” I said.

“Yes. Oh my god. What?”

I didn’t give myself long enough to talk myself out of it.

“Right, so. On the last day Lavender Brown messaged me to come to the Room of Requirement and we sort of… ended up fooling around.”

It was out. No taking it back.

“WHAT,” Romilda screeched, sitting bolt upright, the mirror lurching with her. “OH MY GOD. HARRY JAMES POTTER.”

That is in fact my name, but no one ever used all three of them except my friends taking the piss, or McGonagall the one time she’d really lost her temper with me. I grinned, but before I could get a word in, she’d already started.

“At school? With Ron’s ex? Who ARE you?” Romilda was clearly thrilled with the scandal of it. I’d definitely picked the right confidante.

“I know, I know,” I muttered. “It wasn’t planned, all right, she just messaged me to come to the Room, and went for it.”

“So, what… did you actually snog?”

It was strange to be saying any of this out loud. People in the common room did it all the time, but I’d never had a thing of my own to add. “Uh, yeah.”

Romilda could clearly tell from my tone it hadn’t ended there. “AND? What? You two didn’t…”

“No, no, not… not all the way.”

“She blew you. Didn’t she.”

My choked silence said it for me.

“I KNEW IT. I knew it. How was it? I heard she’s properly good.”

I sighed heavily. “Yeah. It was fucking unbelievable.”

“Aw, baby Harry. I’m so proud of you. I bet she’s wishing she’d gone for you instead of Ron.” Romilda said it matter-of-factly.

The same thought had crossed my mind, but it was a nice boost to hear it out loud. “Maybe. Wait, what d’you mean, you’ve heard she’s properly good…”

“Well, yeah. Since she and Ron split there’s been some talk. She’s a horny girl, what can I say.”

“Yeah,” I said a bit more quietly.

“Harry. Come on. Did you really think the girl who randomly deepthroated you during school hours was so innocent? You know what, thanks to Lavender’s slutty phase, you’re not a hundred percent virgin any more. Respect the slutty phase.”

I laughed. “Suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“No. You can’t.” Romilda sighed and I heard her drop back onto her pillow. The mirror tilted with her. “On the last day with your best mate’s ex, though. That’s properly hot.” Her voice came through soft and a little husky over the enchanted glass.

I found myself imagining Romilda in her bed across the castle, blonde hair fanned out over the pillow, her plump pink lips slightly parted, biting at one as she held the mirror up over her. She’d be in her nightshirt, maybe a bra and knickers. Maybe less.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” Casually, I slipped a hand under my duvet, just letting it rest against the outside of my pants. It struck me I hadn’t told her about Parvati yet. I knew Romilda would think it was even hotter, but it seemed a bit unfair to drag the other girl into the gossip given how she’d legged it from the scene.

“Did she swallow?”

The hair on my arms stood up at the question, and I could feel something else stirring under the covers. “Mhm.” was all I could croak.

“Fuck.” Was it my imagination, or did Romilda’s breath sound a little heavier through the small glass? “That’s good. Since it was your first blowjob and everything. She want to see you again?”

“No. Y’know, with Ron and all…”

“Yeah. Probably for the best.”

“I just…” I paused. “Finally a girl was actually interested in me, and who knows when that’ll happen again.”

“No, no, no. Shut up.” Romilda said emphatically. “You’re fine. You’re a great bloke, a really nice bloke, and contrary to popular belief, a lot of girls find that pretty fucking attractive. Sure, Lavender was randy, but she went for you because she’s comfortable around you, and you’re a sweet boy who deserves some sloppy head.”

“Merlin,” I snorted, and Romilda just laughed.

After we put the mirrors away I wanked, my thoughts moving from Lavender to Parvati to Romilda in her bed across the castle in the sixth-year girls’ dorm. I came hard into my hand at the thought she might be doing the same thing, full thighs spread, those famously huge tits shaking as she played with herself.

---

Graduation morning was a blur. Before I knew it the Leaving Feast was over, McGonagall had given her usual speech with the customary tear at the corner of her eye, the seventh years had thrown their caps at the enchanted ceiling, and I was upstairs in the dorm trying to charm a stray curl out of my hair while Ron lobbed pillows at me to hurry up.

“Suit. He’s wearing a suit.” Padma’s normally quiet voice piped up the moment I came down through the portrait hole. The girls were waiting on the rug by the fire, and three of them (plus Ron) hooted and wolf-whistled as I crossed, my face turning the colour of my dark red tie. My grey set of dress robes were a hand-me-down job from Bill that Mrs Weasley had taken in around the chest, and they didn’t quite fit me right, but apparently with a bit of Sleekeazy’s and contacts they were enough to give my friends a turn.

“Oh-oh-seven, is that you?” Hermione mock-swooned. She was in a simple dark green halter-style dress robe, her bushy auburn curls pinned back by a vintage mother-of-pearl clip, and red lipstick that reminded me uncomfortably of Lavender’s.

“Vomit, Hermione. He’s old and sexist. Hi. Nice monkey suit.” Demelza said as I dropped in next to her. “About time, mate.”

“Same to you.” Demelza had naturally also gone for dress robes rather than a gown, black, with a bowtie, her brown hair still tumbling loose around her shoulders, but properly washed and brushed for once.

Ron and Romilda were perched on the arm of the chesterfield. He’d gone for proper formal dress robes, which actually looked all right on his broad frame. He’d always been a few inches taller than me, but in the past year he’d properly filled out his shoulders, too. Bastard.

“Sir.” I extended a hand.

“Sir.” Ron inclined his head and shook it solemnly, before grinning. It was a stupid ritual from third year that the girls always rolled their eyes at.

Romilda caught my eye. “Hi. Sleep well?” she said, like she knew exactly what I’d got up to after we’d put the mirrors away. Her honey-blonde hair was curled into full waves and pulled to one side of her neck, and her baby blue ball gown made magnificent use of her famous cleavage.

Hannah wasn’t there. Her mum had insisted on collecting her by the Hogsmeade Floo straight after the Feast, no Ball, no afterparty, nothing. We’d already said our goodbyes that morning.

We trooped down to the Great Hall together, Romilda hanging on Demelza’s arm, Padma scampering after them.

The Hall had been transformed for the night. Round tables ringed a polished floor where the house tables had stood that morning. The enchanted ceiling churned with stars and slow drifts of cloud. The Weird Sisters were already up on a low stage at the far end, playing through a warm-up.

“Right.” Ron rubbed his hands together. “Hope you’re all ready for a hell of a night.”

“A hell of a safe night,” Hermione added pointedly. Ron grinned and pretended he hadn’t heard her.

It was a hell of a night. My cheeks were aching from smiling by the time ten o’clock rolled around and the Weird Sisters really started laying into us. I know it’s not cool to like school dances, but what can I say. I liked my mates and I liked to dance, even if it had been years since I’d done it outside the privacy of my four-poster.

The music thumped through wizarding hits we usually took the piss out of, but we screamed the words anyway. Classmates I’d barely spoken to in seven years danced into and out of our group, and I could see surprised grins at me cutting loose for the first time.

“You’re a brilliant dancer.” Angelina Johnson shouted in my ear, putting a hand on my shoulder. It was high praise from one of the best dancers on the Gryffindor team and the unofficial choreographer of every Weasley wedding to come.

I looked down, grinning. “Cheers. You look great, by the way.” I blurted, because she did. Angelina was a tall, slender black girl, her dark braids pinned half up so they bounced down her back. Her dress was a gold and white two-piece showing a strip of taut, athletic midriff.

“Aw, thanks.” She flashed me a dazzling smile. “Can we get a snap?” She lifted a small enchanted camera, but then a voice cut through the music.

“Angelina, come on, it’s our song.”

Daphne Greengrass had a way of being heard. She was a few inches shorter than me, but the graceful confidence and the way she carried her shoulders made her seem taller. Her brown-to-blonde ombré hair was pulled back into an elegant updo, a few loose strands framing her face.

Daphne was striking on a normal day, with big blue-grey eyes, full lips, and a perfect nose, but properly made up in a floaty pink ball gown subtly embroidered with silver flowers, she looked like a Beauxbatons portrait that had stepped out of its frame.

Apparently not even seeing me, Daphne grabbed Angelina by the wrist and turned on her heel. Angelina shot me an apologetic look as she let herself be towed away. “Are you coming to Daph’s later?” she called over her shoulder.

“Uh. Yeah.” I blurted before I’d thought it through. I’d heard Daphne was throwing a party at her family’s manor once her parents had taken the Floo to their summer place in France for the weekend. Apparently I was going.

The next song was a slow one, an old Celestina Warbeck number Hermione and I both secretly loved enough to belt along to in the safety of the common room when there was no one else about. She sidled up to me.

“Want to dance?”

“Sure.” I was in such a good mood I didn’t hesitate. I’d never properly slow-danced with anyone before, but it was nice, swaying a bit awkwardly with her hand in mine as we mouthed the words to each other.

“Did I hear you’re going to Daphne’s later?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, looks like it.” I swallowed. It was just starting to sink in what exactly I was in for.

She shook her head slowly, grinning. “You’re really blossoming, aren’t you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” She gave me one of those looks that made me a bit nervous. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there when you have your first proper Firewhisky and when you’re throwing it up on the lawn. Half an hour later, probably.”

I laughed. “Shut up.”

As it turned out, I did a bit better than that.

---

Ron, Hermione, Romilda and Demelza made me down my first Firewhisky almost as soon as we stepped through the Floo into the Greengrass entrance hall, gathering round and chanting like a pack of Beaters. To be honest, it was disgusting, and felt like my stomach was filling up with Snitch-sized gas bubbles, but then Romilda pressed a tankard of mead and lemon into my hand and that was much more my speed.

Greengrass Manor was a tasteful sort of monstrosity, three floors of pale stone and ivy, but there was plenty of room for almost the whole of our year, a sideboard groaning with drinks, a table of conjured cakes, and even a charmed bouncing trampoline floating over the back lawn. And absolutely no parental supervision in sight. Daphne’s mother and father had Flooed off to their summer house in Provence the day before, with a sternly worded portrait left on the mantelpiece, which someone had already turned to face the wall.

It took maybe half an hour for the place to go from a loud, lively gathering to something close to chaos. The only rule Daphne had laid out was that no one was allowed to change out of their formalwear, so girls playing some violent variant of Exploding Snap in their ball gowns and lads spilling Firewhisky down their dress robes only added to it.

It was everything I’d been led to expect of a proper Hogwarts party from my friends’ wildest stories, only better. Everyone was so happy to see one another, and I found myself in rapt conversation with people I’d known seven years and barely spoken to.

As I sipped more mead and felt my head go a little fuzzy, I talked more and more, cracking jokes that made girls I’d been too nervous to say hello to in the corridors burst out laughing, probably because they were even drunker than I was. It was brilliant.

“Harry.” Someone threw their arms around my neck and leaned all their weight on me, giving me a lungful of firewater and perfume. “I can’t believe you’re heeeere.”

“Hi, Bell.” I laughed.

I’d known Katie Bell since first year, but back then she’d taken great pleasure in flicking me in the back of the head and calling me weird, antisocial, fame-mad, and a few worse things. She’d grown out of it and apologised properly by fourth year, and we’d bonded over breakfast in the Hospital Wing after a nasty Quidditch accident, though these days she was closer to Romilda than to me.

She was tall, tanned from a summer of nothing but training, with Chaser’s shoulders, a small enchanted nose-stud that shifted colour with her mood, and loose honey-blonde hair, which looked great with her turquoise knee-length dress. She was thoroughly pissed already, a serene smile on her face, leaning a bit sideways.

“Where’s your date?” I asked. She’d come with some lad from the Holyhead Harpies’ summer scouting squad.

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Gone, thank Merlin. He was banging on and on about leaving, but we’d only just got there. Whatever, guess someone’s not getting his cock sucked.”

I was tipsy enough that I managed not to choke on my mead.

“Speaking of which, I heard about youuu.” She narrowed her eyes, a wide sly smile spreading. “Little Harry’s first blowjob.”

My mouth dropped open. “Romilda told you?” Katie collapsed into giggles. I should have known better than to think Romilda wouldn’t pass on a piece of gossip that would tickle Katie as much as my first sexual experience would. After the bullying had stopped, Katie had started treating me like an annoying little brother, which could be sweet but mostly was very irritating.

“What. First what?” Demelza barged into the conversation, clutching a bottle of butterbeer. “Did you just say that Romilda…”

At this Katie only laughed harder. “No, no, not Romilda.” I said. The last thing I needed was a rumour, let alone the wrong one.

“But yes, blowjob?” Demelza was clearly shocked, her normally lazy drawl going uncharacteristically high.

I opened my mouth and no sound came out. “Who, Harry?” Demelza demanded, eyes wide. “Tell me, Merlin’s pants, who blew you?”

I saw a couple of heads turn our way, but luckily no one I knew well. “Can you keep your voice down.” I hissed. Katie was leaning on me, still in stitches, and I lifted her arm off me and dropped her unceremoniously onto Demelza, who staggered.

“Harry. Tell me who blew you.” Demelza snapped after me, but I was already walking off, although walking was proving slightly trickier than usual.

My feet crossed in front of each other clumsily, like someone had stuck me in a pair of unbroken-in dragonhide boots, and I had to lean on the banister as I wobbled up the great curved staircase. I wasn’t that drunk, was I? I hadn’t started dancing on a table or trying to pick a fight with a portrait yet, so I must’ve been doing all right.

I picked one of the identical white doors along the upstairs landing and opened it. It was dark inside, but I made out a couple of shapes shifting on a bed and the unmistakable sounds of an enthusiastic snog. “Sorry,” I muttered, closing the door in a hurry. The couple didn’t even seem to notice.

I guessed at another door and turned the knob. The room beyond was lit by the glow of pixie-lights strung across the wall above a large four-poster. Sitting on a plush silver rug was Daphne Greengrass, the full tulle skirt of her gown spread out around her, looking down at a small mirror.

“Bugger. Sorry,” I said again. “I was looking for the bog.”

Daphne looked up briefly, gave me a once-over, picked up her glass and took a big sip. “There’s an en suite.” She nodded at the door on the other side of what I realised must be her bedroom. “Don’t. Throw up. Or do anything else gross.”

“Yep, yep, got it.” I mumbled, making my way over. I hoped she didn’t count having a slash in that.

When I was done I stared at myself in the mirror as I washed my hands, looking at my flushed face, my slightly wild dark hair, my loosened tie and the wrinkled white of my dress shirt, and wondered how exactly I’d ended up in Daphne Greengrass’s private bathroom.

I glanced at the shower and some properly indecent thoughts jumped into my head about Daphne under that water every morning, until I creeped myself out, dried my hands quickly and made my exit.

When I came back out she was still on the rug with her mirror, nursing her drink. Out of curiosity, I had a look round the room, on the knowledge I’d almost certainly never see it again. It was a Slytherin queen-bee’s chamber down to the last detail. Silver and green everywhere, plush rugs, a white vanity with moving photographs of her and her friends tucked into the mirror’s frame, a small treasure-chest of cosmetics. A pair of dark green Chaser’s gloves hung on the dresser, alongside one of those small enchanted lightboxes that displayed, in shifting cursive: Sharp. Snake. Snake-charmer. Merlin help me.

“So, uh. Did you want a bit of quiet or something?” I managed to stammer. The muffled music and roar of voices was a dull thrum from below.

“Yeah. Or something.” she said. I was pretty sure we’d exchanged more words in the last minute than we ever had in seven years at Hogwarts. She looked round at me over the bed. “You’re a boy.”

“Sort of. Technically.” I said, and she raised her eyebrows. She seemed more relaxed, less on than usual, and I reckoned she was as buzzed as me or maybe a touch less.

“But you like girls?” she asked.

“Yeah.” There had certainly been times people hadn’t been quite sure, just because I was best friends with Hermione and didn’t preen like the Quidditch lot did.

“So if you’d been owling a girl all of seventh year, asked her to the Ball, and then ended up snogging one of her mates on her own bed on the night of her own party…” she paused, holding up a hand. “What the actual fuck. Excuse me.”

I cleared my throat. If she meant her date, that was Draco Malfoy. “Yeah. That’s fucked up.”

I was used to listening to my friends’ boy-troubles, and I thought I was decent at the advice. I wandered over and dropped into her vanity chair, turning it around.

“Right? Thank you.” Daphne snapped. “It’s like, we weren’t exclusive, obviously, I mean we hadn’t even kissed, but. Am I an idiot for assuming this was leading somewhere?”

“No, no, I don’t think so.” I said quietly. “Did he know how you felt?”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know how I feel. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything. But, come on, when you ask someone to the Ball…”

“Yeah. You should dance with the one that brung you.” It was something Sirius said, usually about Quidditch.

Daphne gave me a funny look, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah, a bit. The mead is. Very good. My compliments.” I did a dumb little chef’s-kiss thing and she snorted with laughter.

“Cheers. I feel like you never come to parties. What’s with that?” She ran a hand through her long, sleek ombré hair, having taken her formal updo down.

“I’m shocked you’ve noticed something like that.” I blurted.

She raised one full, manicured brow. “Yeah? Suppose I’m less shallow than you thought.”

“I mean, we’ve never had a conversation in seven years of classes together.” I said. I was surprising myself with the honesty.

Her mouth opened slightly in mock offence. “Not my fault you were too shy to talk to me.”

“I’m not that shy once you get me going.” Was I bantering with Daphne Greengrass? Mead really was some kind of miracle.

“Clearly.” she shot back, but just then there was a thump from the room down the hall, a girl’s giggle and moan, and a low boy’s voice. Daphne’s eyes went hard. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look.

“Disgusting. I’m going to burn those sheets, I swear by Merlin.” She took a big swig of her drink.

I winced. So the couple I’d barged in on a few doors down had been Draco and whichever one of her friends he’d picked over her. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would turn her down.

“Want me to nip in there and pretend to be sick on them?” I asked. I was pretty sure I was joking, but who could tell at this point.

Daphne smirked. “My hero.” She wasn’t usually this sarcastic. It really suited her. “Don’t bother. Draco might hex you.”

“Don’t think so. I helped him through Ancient Runes in fifth year, so. He sort of likes me.”

“Merlin, are you actually friends with everyone or what?” Daphne wrinkled her nose.

I blinked at her. “No. People barely know me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come off it, Harry, yes they do. You’re the nice one. You’re kind of a swot, but not in an annoying way, and you know everything in class, but you’re not smug about it. Everyone likes you.”

“I… all right.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say. No one had ever said that to me before. In the brief silence that followed there was the muffled creak of a bed-frame from the other room, rhythmic and continuous.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Daphne fumed under her breath, baring her painted nails like she wanted to claw Draco’s eyes out. She clenched her jaw, composed herself, looked at me, considered something. Then she sighed in a resigned way and tipped her head back to finish her drink. “Come here.” she said briskly.

“What?”

“Just. Come here.” she said again. I got out of the chair and dropped a bit heavily to the rug, and as I was steadying my slightly spinning head, Daphne grabbed me by my robe lapels and pulled me against her mouth. I tasted her lipgloss and the tartness of the green apple liqueur she’d been drinking, and her tongue confidently met mine.

Somewhere a switch flipped in my mead-soaked brain, and I was kissing her back without missing a beat, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be snogging the most popular witch in our year. Daphne seemed every bit as into it as I was.

Her arms wrapped round my neck and I felt her grab a handful of my robes, sitting up on her knees to get a better angle as our tongues explored each other, her breath quickening through her nose. She even nipped at my bottom lip, which I hadn’t realised was a thing people actually did.

Snogging under the influence was a completely different thing. It was like someone had reached inside my head and turned off every inhibition and anxiety and diverted all that energy to what was happening in each particular second. Daphne murmured something between kisses and I barely caught it, until she pulled back and we broke apart. “Wait. Wait.”

We were both out of breath, flushed, eyes hazy. “Right, right.” Daphne exhaled in a way that was somehow incredibly hot. She suddenly seemed a bit more drunk than before. “Just so you know, I don’t like you or…”

“No, no, I know, I know.”

“Right, because you do seem like a sweet boy but…”

“It’s fine. We’re drunk, you want to get back at Malfoy.” I said, still half in shock this was happening.

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” She grabbed my face and crushed her mouth onto mine. God, her lips were soft. One of my hands found its way into her silky hair and she actually made a little mm and pushed her tongue hard into mine. It was a bit awkward shifting closer with her great floofy skirt in the way, rustling like mad as we fidgeted.

“So annoying.” Daphne murmured between kisses. “Do you just want to…” She pushed at my shoulders and we tumbled to the rug, me on my back propping up on my elbows and her on top of me, my legs smothered by her skirt as she leaned down to keep going. I had the brief drunken thought it was a good thing I couldn’t really overstep my hands, because there wasn’t much accessible real estate.

Instead I occupied my hands in her hair, which she seemed to enjoy, letting out a long breath through her nose and biting my lip again, harder this time. Automatically my fingers tensed, pulling at her hair. I immediately let go, but she grabbed my wrist and held it where it was, and took my other hand in hers and put it to her chest.

“Shit,” I muttered, and squeezed, over the lacy bodice, filling my hand with the shape but teasingly not yet the feel of her breast. I was sure I had a tent in my dress trousers, but thank Merlin she couldn’t feel it through that stupid skirt.

She pushed my robes off my shoulders and I struggled out of them, harder than it sounds when you’re sitting on a rug pissed with a girl on your lap sucking on your tongue. “Mmph, kiss my neck.” she said breathlessly, and I did, burying my face into the soft, sweet-smelling skin and worshipping it with my mouth.

Daphne’s breath came heavy and hitching. This was turning her on, no denying it. Her hand went to my thigh and squeezed, and I gave her hair a gentle tug and she gasped, panting “Fuck,” directly in my ear.

It was my first taste of that special chemistry where you lose yourself, everything either of you do egging the other one on in a feedback loop until you’re racing breathlessly forwards. Tongues still sloppily tangling, our hands all over each other, through hair, across the bits of bare skin we could reach.

I glanced down to see Daphne slipping the thin straps of her gown off her shoulders. When she rolled the top of the dress down, I froze. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were round and perfect, none the less for their gentle size. She had a slight tan-line, so the soft skin was pale, the nipples small and pink.

I tried to savour the moment of seeing real bare breasts for the first time, let alone Daphne Greengrass’s, but then my hands were on them, and they felt exactly how they looked, smooth and ripe and yielding under my fingers. When I brushed her stiff nipples with my thumbs, Daphne gasped and I felt her plant her hand flat against the bulge in my trousers. “Oh.” I tensed, but she didn’t stop, exploring the trapped shape of my cock through the fabric with her palm.

“Get on the bed,” she murmured insistently against my mouth.

---

We stumbled tipsily to our feet together, her pulling herself up on my arm. When I fell back onto the edge of her great four-poster, Daphne was standing in front of me, hair mussed around her shoulders, her cheeks, neck and chest as pink as her gown.

“Merlin, you’re fucking beautiful.” I blurted, throat dry.

Daphne smirked, a hard hungry look filling her eyes. Reaching down, she unbuckled my belt and dropped to her knees between my legs, her skirt puffing out around her again. Holy shit.

My cock was achingly hard, stretching my pants to their limit. Daphne tugged my waistband down and let my naked cock spring free, sticking straight up. She looked it up and down briefly, then pressed those full glossy lips against the swollen tip, parting them just enough to slide my cockhead in, stretching wider round my shaft as she took me down.

If I’d thought snogging tipsy was good. Merlin. My head swam as I stared down at Daphne Greengrass sucking my cock in her ball gown, mascara-dark lashes fluttering, one hand twisting around my shaft as she hollowed her cheeks and slurped me down over and over, making astonishing wet sounds every time I bumped the back of her throat.

“Oh fuck yes, that’s so good, you’re so fucking hot.” A stream of drunken and probably embarrassing murmurs spilled out of me as I ran a hand through her hair.

She came up for air with a gasp, lips shiny, and licked my length from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the head. Daphne didn’t tease and play like Lavender had. She just lavished my hard cock with her hands and lips and tongue like it was the only thing in the world.

When she engulfed me in her mouth again, I gasped and risked another tug at her hair, and again, I wasn’t disappointed with the response. She choked out a muffled moan and those big blue-grey eyes opened to look up at me as she fervently bobbed her head, swallowing me deeper and deeper until she gagged and had to let me slide messily out.

I could still hear the faint sounds of sex from the other room, so I knew she could too, but neither of us so much as glanced in that direction as she stroked my slick cock with both hands. “Are you a virgin, Harry?” Daphne panted.

My Adam’s apple jumped as I suppressed the urge to gulp, and nodded.

Daphne licked her lips and hit me with both barrels of her doe eyes. “So. Are you up for it?”

I’d never imagined this was how I’d lose my virginity, and I’d imagined quite a bit. Thanks to Hermione, I’d had enough talkings-to about the politics of the whole thing to know the idea of your virginity being some special perfect flower was really just a way to slut-shame girls. But I also knew your first time could be awkward and it was supposed to be good to do it with someone you trusted.

Daphne wasn’t a bully exactly, but I knew she could be cutting and condescending. There was a good chance I’d go limp or come too quickly and get laughed out of her manor, humiliated. Honestly, I barely knew her.

But I was drunk, hornier than I’d ever been in my life, and I had no idea how I’d got this lucky. Things like this didn’t happen to lads like me, and I wasn’t about to miss out on a one-in-a-million chance. So I nodded. “Yeah. All right. Yes.”

“Brilliant. Unzip me.” She stood, turning round and gathering her curtain of brown and blonde hair up out of the way.

My fingers only trembled a bit as I found the small zip-fastening and drew it down, revealing her bare, slender back. Daphne lifted her arms and glanced back over her shoulder expectantly, and I tugged her beautiful pink gown to the floor. I’d seen her body in summer Daily Prophet society columns and in the tight cut of her Chaser robes, but nothing had prepared me for her in nothing but a white thong and matching sheer stockings.

Daphne was a Chaser, and she had a Chaser’s body, tight and toned, with a trim waist any girl would kill for, curving out to a pert, round bubble of an arse that was built for broom-leathers. But I barely got a moment to gawk before she turned round and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Right. Sorry.” I lifted my hips to wriggle out of my trousers and then peeled off my socks too, before Daphne impatiently unbuttoned my white dress shirt. I swallowed as I slipped it off. I’d lost a bit of softness the summer before seventh year when I’d finished growing, but compared to Draco and the lads who spent their free periods in the Quidditch loft, I looked somehow both scrawny and a bit doughy.

But Daphne didn’t say a word, just pushed me back onto her bed and climbed gracefully after me, crawling up as I scooted back to the headboard. I breathed in as she tossed her hair back and straddled me, pushing her thong-clad arse back hard against my naked cock, letting my shaft rub against the soft fabric between her legs. She was wet. I could feel it through her knickers, warm against the taut skin.

“Fuck.” I’d suddenly thought of something. “Do you have a… should we be using something?”

Daphne shook her head. “The Charm’s on. Just pull out, yeah? Touch me.”

Almost trembling with anticipation, my hand ran from her breasts, down her flat smooth stomach, sliding beneath the waistband of her knickers. I’d half expected some hair but there was nothing but more soft skin and then her tender slick folds, hot to the touch, wetting my fingers. Jaw clenching, I rubbed her centre and she rocked her hips gratefully.

“Put them inside.” she breathed. I searched for her entrance, until suddenly my finger was sinking into wet clinging warmth and I knew I was inside her, all the way to the knuckle.

Daphne’s head bowed, eyes squeezing shut, breath shuddering as I fingered her, stroking as best I could. This might sound stupid, but after Lavender I’d actually picked up a discreetly-wrapped copy of Witching Pleasures from Flourish and Blotts and tucked it under my mattress, and even in my drunken haze I remembered the beckoning gesture.

Panting, Daphne looked down at me through her lashes. “Ready?” She reached behind her and took hold of my cock.

I nodded vigorously, and she raised herself up, bracing a hand on my chest. She guided my hardness beneath her and plucked her knickers to one side, and I could see her soft wet lips glisten as they kissed my swollen cockhead.

“Happy graduation.” she breathed. Then she sank down, and a gripping smothering heat swallowed my shaft as I watched my hard cock disappear inside her.

I was inside Daphne Greengrass, and I wasn’t a virgin any more.

“Oh, Merlin.” I groaned, fingers digging into the soft bedspread.

At the same moment Daphne bit out “Fuck,” sat up straight, ran a hand through her hair, and started to ride me.

Whether it was the mead or pure determination, I didn’t immediately explode at the feeling of Daphne’s tight, wet pussy milking my cock as she rolled her hips in my lap like she was running a Chaser drill.

I stared up in awe, flushed in the soft glow of the pixie-lights, arching her back and thrusting her perky tits out as she worked her clasping sex up and down my hardness. She was so fucking tight I had no idea how anyone was supposed to last long enough to actually fuck her.

It was overwhelming, more delirious than a dozen tankards of mead. I didn’t know where to touch, I wanted it all. I could feel her naked arse pressing against my thighs, so I grabbed it, filling my hands with the firm smooth cheeks, huffing like a drowning man. Daphne bit her lip between short hitching sighs and bent down to me, her arse still rocking steadily to plunge me in and out.

“Fuck, Daphne.” I leaned up hungrily and put my mouth on her tits, clumsy sucking kisses, her nipple slipping into my mouth before I quite knew what I was doing.

“Mmm,” Daphne inhaled sharply as I teased the stiff pearl with my tongue. Movement caught my eye behind her, and my heart jumped for a moment, but it was just her big vanity mirror, and in the reflection, us.

“Bloody hell.” I murmured. She followed my gaze and looked over her shoulder at her own perfect naked body rolling on top of me, her hair falling in a sheet down her back. She fucked back faster, more urgently, her breathy moans coming thicker and heavier as she watched herself take my cock deeper and deeper.

I couldn’t stop staring at her pussy engulfing my thick shaft, at my hands squeezing her arse, at her lips parted in pleasure as she looked back. Somehow seeing it from a distance made it more real. Automatically I grabbed her hips, my hips bucking upward, and I was thrusting up inside her, gritting my teeth at the sight of that peach of an arse rippling in the mirror.

Daphne’s breath shook with high rhythmic gasps as I fucked her back for the first time. She gripped the headboard and those strong toned legs flexed to drive her up off my lap, coming down to meet my every stroke with a lewd smack that speared my entire length in her.

“Merlin,” I clung to her curvy hips for dear life, struggling to keep pace as Daphne bounced feverishly on my cock, the mattress creaking. I threw my head back, and in the tipsy haze of how good it felt, every filthy thought spilled out. “Yeah, bounce on it, Daphne, fucking hell, you’re hot.”

I’d expected her to shush me or even laugh, but Daphne bit her lip and tossed her hair back, seemingly feeding off the praise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I murmured back. “You’re the hottest fucking witch in school.”

“Mhmm,” she breathed as she jolted up and down. “You like watching the hottest witch in school ride you, Harry?” My name came out a gasp as she came down on my cock.

I nodded desperately, wrapping my arms around her slender waist to pull her down onto me, and she fell forward with a gasp, bracing her hands on my chest.

“I didn’t… think you’d… last this long.” Daphne murmured between the wet sounds of my cock plowing up into her. I gritted my teeth in triumph as our gazes locked in drunken lust and I wrapped her hair round my hand and pulled her head back with a firm tug. She moaned out loud without bothering to stifle it as she had before. “Merlin, I hate how much I fucking love that.” She groaned, sounding equal parts irritated and aroused. “Do you want to be on top?”

She’d barely finished the sentence before I was sitting up, and we rolled together in an awkward tangle.

Daphne settled back, her hair splayed across her pillow. She spread her legs, opening to me, and seven years of pent-up frustration suddenly bubbled over. Swallowing, I shoved myself back inside her, leaned forward onto my hands and started to thrust, hard, punching strokes that drove her into the mattress.

“Ohhhh, fuck, yes.” Daphne choked out. “Like that, fuck me.”

She was sopping, my aching cock gliding smoothly into her with every lunge of my hips.

The blushing open-mouthed look of surprise and pleasure on Daphne’s perfect face was almost as good as her walls squeezing round my cock with every thrust. “Oh my god. Ohmygod.” she moaned, clinging to the sheets above her head. “Harder.”

Somehow I obliged, digging my knees in and plowing down doggedly. My thighs burned, the hours of dancing catching up, but it was worth it to see Daphne Greengrass’s perfect tits bouncing wildly with the force of me fucking her, those big blue eyes staring up at me in shock as she cried out desperately.

I had no idea where I was getting this stamina, but all I knew was I didn’t want to stop fucking Daphne until she was screaming.

“Yes, yes, YES. Fucking hell, Harry.” Her manicured nails dug into my shoulders as she spread her stocking-clad legs wide, pointing her toes in the air. “You’re fucking me. Fucking the hottest girl in school. Losing your virginity to. Daphne fucking Greengrass.” Her voice shook every time I bottomed out.

I groaned unintelligibly, grabbing her hips to pull her onto my pistoning cock. I’d never felt so strong, so masculine before, not in my entire life. Moaning desperately, Daphne reached down with one hand and started rubbing her clit, her eyes glued to my throbbing cock disappearing inside her as she was rocked by every thrust.

My cock felt like it was going to burst with every slick plunge inside her, my stomach spasming, that tickling electric feeling building in my balls. “Fuck, Daphne, I’m close.” I panted, knowing I had moments left.

“Don’t stop. If you don’t stop, I’m going to come.” Daphne begged, stroking her clit furiously.

Over the distant thump of the party, there was the sound of a door opening down the hall and voices. Draco and his hook-up had come out of the room.

Daphne’s gaze flicked towards the hallway, then back to mine, and she smiled fiercely. “Unhh, yeah, fuck me, fuck me, ohhhh please, give it to me hard, just like that.” She cried out wantonly, at full volume. I did my best to oblige, huffing through my nose to stave off the rapidly-approaching orgasm as I pounded into her gripping pussy for all I was worth, the headboard banging against the wall, the bedframe groaning in protest.

“Yes, yes, yessss. You’re so fucking good, oh my GOD.” I knew Daphne had to be doing this for Draco’s benefit, but with her face screwed up with pleasure and her legs starting to shake, it was bloody convincing. “Ohhh god, I’m going to come, I can’t believe a virgin is going to make me fucking come.” Her eyes screwed shut and a spasm ran through her, her hand flying on her clit as her inner muscles started squeezing so tight round my cock I wasn’t sure she’d let me pull out.

“I’m coming.” I croaked, and somehow managed to yank myself out like she’d asked, half a second before my cock throbbed, shooting the first rope of cum across her toned tummy. Squirming and shaking, Daphne wrapped her fingers round my shaft and pumped my pulsing dick, toes curling in the air, riding out her orgasm while I painted her perfect body with my load.

It was the most powerful orgasm of my life, like a gut punch, everything going white with star-spots for a moment. When I opened my eyes, Daphne was limp and panting, sporadically covered from her flat belly to her heaving tits with sticky white cum.

“Shit. Sorry.” I mumbled, barely finding the air to speak.

Daphne snorted with laughter, eyes half-closed as she lay back, her naked body almost glowing with sweat and well-fucked satisfaction. “Suppose you had a decent first time.”

“Yeah. Merlin. Wow.” I sat back on my haunches, suddenly self-conscious of being naked as things started to settle.

---

“Did they go back downstairs?” She sat up, whispering, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Uh, didn’t hear. I was a bit busy.” I hopped off the bed and pulled my pants on, picked up my trousers and went looking for my shirt. I had no real reason to be cross. She’d been completely upfront. We’d used each other, honestly. But the question had chased off the afterglow pretty quickly, and my buzz was waning.

Daphne rolled off the bed and walked naked to her bathroom. I was satisfied to see her legs wobble a bit as I shrugged into my shirt. She paused in the doorway.

“I’m just going for a wee, so…”

“Yeah, I’m just…” I did up my buttons hurriedly.

“No, no, take your time. Just. Be discreet, all right?”

I paused. “Yeah, of course.”

She smiled. “All right. Cheers. Hope you have a great summer, Harry.”

“Yeah. Suppose I’ll see you…”

The door clicked shut. My brows knitted. Hope you have a great summer?

I glanced down the landing, but there was no sign of Draco. From the top of the stairs I could hear the party still going strong further into the manor, and Hermione rounded the corner and saw me. “Hey, oh my god, where’ve you been? We were trying to find you. You look like…”

“I, uh. Felt a bit ill, went and passed out in some random room. I’m all right though.” The lie came uncomfortably easy.

Hermione laughed. “Ha. Told you. Come on, there’s pizza.” She’d discovered Muggle pizza in fifth year and never recovered. She grabbed my hand and tugged me back towards the party, a bit unsteady. The veranda was still packed, a great bonfire going in the gardens, and half a dozen pizzas on a trestle table that someone had Flooed in from London.

My friends saw me coming and gave a cheer. Demelza was hitting a hookah someone had set up and seemed to have completely forgotten about overhearing about my blowjob. Ron was banging on about Quidditch to a girl from our Charms class who looked riveted.

Nobody here knew I’d just lost my virginity to Daphne Greengrass, and apparently I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. I’d had sex and it had been mind-blowing, but I was still me. I hadn’t instantly turned into some swaggering, confident bastard. And maybe that was all right.

I leaned over to grab a slice and felt hands on my waist.

“Hiii.” It was Romilda, properly wasted. “Heard you got ‘sick’.”

“Yeah.” I said shortly, shrugging and taking a bite of pizza. She lolled her head to one side, giving me a sceptical look.

“Riiight. You know, you’re lucky your other friends don’t know what sex smells like.” She raised an eyebrow at me, licked her lips, and stumbled off.

Be discreet, right. Easier said than done.