The Seducer System (Harry Potter)

Chapter 28. I Choose You

The date with Parvati was enjoyable. She was great company and even better in bed. But I can't say the same about her gacha points. The resultant pulls were… unsatisfactory.

[Pitcher]

— A pitcher that never runs out of water. A must-have item if you're wandering into a desert.

[Cindrella's Ball Gown]

— The dazzling blue gown from the most famous fable. Put it on and seduce a prince, chump. Note: It comes with the glass slippers too; you're welcome.

[Whistler]

— Grants the user the ability to whistle.

None of the three are useful. I already have the 'Cup of Need' that can function the same as 'Pitcher' if I want, making it redundant.

Similarly, the best I can do with the gown is gift it to one of my sisters, or maybe even my mother. It provides no other benefits.

And the [Whistler] is the most useless of all since I already know how to whistle.

If that wasn't infuriating enough, I had to deal with Malfoy the same day. I wish Rose hadn't held me back, I wanted to teach him what real power was. I wanted to see him crumble on his knees like Damian and Proserpina, to beg for mercy, to know his real place at the bottom of the totem pole. Well, the use of my [Authority] perk should signal them not to ever mess with me and mine again.

[Authority]

— Any person whose level is less than half of yours is incapable of disobeying your commands.

They saw the hint of real strength that day, where I defeated them with just the power of my words. Then again, I'm sure Malfoy and his ilk will surpass my expectations and give me the opportunity to terrorise them again. This time, I might do something permanent. I'll be looking forward to it.

Anyways, that day was overall lukewarm, to say the least.

And that gave me another idea.

This desire for points led me to do something that will either make Lavender proud or, more likely, offend her.

I started entertaining the girls who asked me to the Yule Ball, even though they know I already have girlfriends.

…

"This might sound odd, but I believe in the kiss of true love," I said when one seventh-year Ravenclaw tried to convince me to take her to the Yule Ball. "If you're serious about being my partner, how about we kiss and see? It'll tell me whether you are her or not, if you're worthy or not."

The challenge was enough to reel her in and I got to kiss a hot, older girl without any need for commitment. Obviously, I turned her down, because she was not her. I felt both guilt and amusement when she harrumphed and flounced away in shame. After that, I was swarmed by girls wanting to prove themselves that they are her. Few were serious, but most realised I was being an arse and were just there for fun. That was the moment I realised I was indeed popular with girls, like Parvati had said.

Presently, I'm sequestered in a broom closet with the girl number 27. She's a seventh-year from Durmstrang, having hopped on the bandwagon, lured in by my popularity. Her name is Alina something. I stopped paying attention when I noticed her giant tits. They are as big as my mum's. And attached to her wispy frame, they stand out like nothing else. She reminds me a bit of Susan, who too has a similar figure. But unlike her, she has black hair and blacker eyes.

As I mash my mouth against hers, my hands sink into her pillowy breasts. I squeeze them and press myself harder against her soft body, pinning her between me and the wall, wrestling down her tongue. In the freezing cold, her heat is addictive, and the taste of her lips—sweet and a bit minty from her lip balm—makes me not care about swallowing some of it as we snog.

When I start unbuttoning her blouse, she shoves me off before grabbing my collar and pulling me close. Her lips, glossy and slightly parted, twist into a sly grin. "You think I am her, da?" she says, her accent rolling thick.

"Afraid not," I reply, smirking, eyeing her wet mouth.

She doesn't get angry; instead, she throws her head back and laughs—a low, throaty sound that seems to echo down the hallway. "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Evans," she says, shaking her head slowly, stepping away. "Then you cannot have these." Her hands trail down to her chest, cupping her heavy, melon-sized breasts as if offering them, before giving them a teasing squeeze. "Such shame for you."

"Shame, indeed," I agree, leaning against the closet door, feigning indifference.

"Da, big shame." She straightens her blouse, her eyes never leaving mine, and stoops to pick up her jacket. "But maybe you think twice, hm? You know where to find me." Her voice dips into a husky murmur as she steps towards the door.

With a lazy flick of her wand, she unlocks it, then brushes past me, her body grazing mine deliberately. The firm press of her rounded arse against my crotch makes my breath hitch, but she pretends not to notice. "Do svidaniya."

I step out after her, unable to stop myself from watching her retreat. Her gait is hypnotic, her hips swaying like a pendulum. Her legs, clad in sheer stockings, keep my gaze rooted, until the faint click of her heels fade away.

If she were my first kiss, I'd have thrown myself at her feet and begged her to be my girlfriend. She's that hot, even when only a B-tier. I get where the system is coming from though. Alina is unremarkable in the face department, overshadowed by all the beautiful witches from the three schools, but her boobs and the seductive personality make up for it.

Shaking my head, I roll the wheel as I make my way to Gryffindor common room.

Item Obtained: [Leaf of Breath] (Rarity: Common)

— A leaf that upon swallowing allows the user to breathe underwater for a day. Note: One use only.

Not bad. It can come in handy for the second task.

I've gained many points from this new venture, sixteen, to be exact. And two of them were even Legendary and Mythical.

[Limit Breaker]

— Allows the user the ability to permanently remove a limit from their skills or perks. Note: It can be used only once a year.

Yes, I did try to use [Limit Breaker] on [Limit Breaker] itself. It didn't work, unfortunately. Also, it didn't work on all skills or perks. It only worked on those that had stated limits in their descriptions. For example, it didn't do anything to [Authority]... but it changed everything for [God of Big Things] perk.

[God of Big Things]

— A perk that allows the user to practically become a genie. With this, the user can grant any wish. Each wish will be moderated by the system, giving it the power to decline. Note: The user can only grant 1 wish in a month, and they cannot fulfil their own wish. Also, one person can only get one wish in their lifetime. No retries.

Here, there are three limits. First, 'the user can only grant 1 wish in a month'. Second, 'they cannot fulfill their own wish'. And third, 'one person can only get one wish in their lifetime'. So, would the [Limit Breaker] remove all these constraints at once? No, it would be done one by one.

Now, I can grant wishes anytime without a time limit, but the other two limits are still there. I assume if I use [Limit Breaker] again, 'they cannot fulfill their own wish' will be the next one to be removed.

It's a great power, though the irony of [Limit Breaker] being limited to just once a year does put a damper on my excitement.

The mythical pull I drew got me a strange item.

[The Seed]

— A cosmic seed that grows into whatever the user deeply desires. It requires six months to fully take shape. To ensure its success, the user should keep it close, allowing it to grow familiar with them. The seed can be carried as a necklace, kept in a pocket, or held in another cherished way.

That's why I've been wearing a black, bean-shaped seed around my neck these days. I'm trying to keep my expectations in check, reining in my wild imagination, but I can't help but wonder what this 'cosmic seed' will grow into.

Aside from [Limit Breaker] and [The Seed, the rest of my pulls are forgettable.

Honestly, if not for these two, all my fooling around with girls would've been purely for pleasure, without any productive purpose.

I'm glad that's not the case.

As I walk through the corridor connecting the Gryffindor tower to the rest of the castle, I decide it's time to choose a real date. There's only a few days left before the Yule Ball, and the number of girls wanting to humour my challenge have dried up.

Now, who to choose?

There's Iris, who's my first choice, only because I was afraid she'd skip the ball if I wasn't with her. But I have realised I was stressing for nothing. While it is compulsory for the champions to have dates to start the dance, the rest of the students are spared from it being a hard requirement. She can still come without a date, and she isn't as friendless as before. There's Astoria who can accompany her. While I know both girls would be happy if I chose them, they can enjoy the night without me. And it's not like I won't dance with them—or spend time with them.

I mentally strike Iris and Astoria from my list.

There are still numerous options left, of course. Teresa, Fleur—yes, she asked me out yesterday, Katie, Hermione, Parvati, and so many others.

In the end, it comes down to Hermione and Katie. One is my best friend, with whom I lost my virginity, and the other is my first girlfriend, with whom I shared my first pleasant date. I have to choose between these two, everyone else is optional, these two are not.

But I don't want to. I don't want either to think I place one above the other. I don't want to deal with that drama.

It would be an inevitable choice if I didn't have my salvation.

Rose. My bratty, older sister.

I choose her. There's a reason beyond me fleeing from conflict. Rose was recently harassed. It's common knowledge that she wears baggy clothes because she doesn't like the attention from the boys. Everyone knows this is the reason she's never had a boyfriend. And after what she went through because of the stalker incident, the idea of having a compulsory date would obviously make her uneasy. Now, wouldn't it be admirable for her dear brother to step in and take her to the ball instead, so she can enjoy the night instead of being anxious about horny boys vying for her attention?

Yes, I'm using this excuse to avoid choosing between Hermione and Katie. But I'm also glad that it will be her. I'll never say it aloud, but among all the girls I have slept with, none are closer to me than my sisters. It's weird that before I got the system, they were merely annoyances—fond annoyances—at best, but now, I can't imagine my life without them.

~xXxXx~

Daphne Greengrass

Life in the Slytherin quarters has become increasingly uncomfortable. Even the Greengrass name isn't enough to shield Daphne from the venomous glares of her housemates. The word 'mudblood-lover' has gone from a whisper aimed at her back to an outright insult hurled at her face. All of it, of course, because of her little sister.

Tori just had to go and make herself public enemy number one. As much as Daphne wanted to throttle the little princess for that foolhardy stunt, she couldn't let anyone else lay a finger on her. Protecting Tori meant taking the heat herself. This time, it had required more than the usual deflections.

Daphne had boldly declared Draco and his lackeys weak and pathetic, a challenge risky enough on its own. But that wasn't all, she had taken it a step further, casting doubt on the sanctity of blood purity. The result? Her peers' disdain for her reached a boiling point. She could feel the loathing in every glare, every muttered curse. Yet, as much as she hated the isolation, there was no choice. Keeping Tori safe came first.

"Maybe you lot are compensating for something," she'd said. "Are you sure it isn't us who ought to be beneath the muggle-borns and half-bloods? Perhaps they're our evolution—our future. The ideal witches and wizards, with a perfect blend of old and fresh blood, while we're just a bunch of inbred relics from the past."

The uproar her words had caused was enough to make everyone forget Tori's open defiance, about her standing with Gryffindors against them. They must think it was the older sister who'd filled the naive girl's head with poison. After all, Daphne was best friends with a half-blood. It wasn't a reach to blame her for everything.

Anyways, that's the reason she has to be cautious as she treads through a secluded hallway. While her name should still protect her from overt assault, one can never be too careful. Simpletons who act before thinking exist in every group. It wouldn't surprise her if one of them attempted to 'ruin' her to put her in her place. Civility and honour is hardly expected from them, especially given their plans for the Yule Ball.

She shoves open the door, greeted by the sight of a well-lit, abandoned classroom. Sitting casually on the edge of the teacher's desk is him—the reason for this entire debacle. The dolt who has her sister wrapped around his finger.

His smirk infuriates her as she strides towards him with a narrowed gaze.

"If you're here to test whether you're my soulmate, you're too late," he says, sliding off the desk to meet her halfway. "I've already decided on my date for the ball."

"Do stop being daft, Evans. Everyone's quite aware you're nothing but a philanderer. The only ones who humoured your absurd proposition were either imbeciles or strumpets. Unfortunately for you, I am neither," she declares, her voice cutting through clenched teeth.

Should she be more respectful to the boy who blew up a mountain and forced her mother to orally pleasure him? Yes. But she's aware they've a slightly more cordial relationship that allows her the occasional outburst. Or so she hopes.

His smirk only widens. "Shame. I'm sure you are really her."

She draws in a deep breath, forcing down her irritation, and fixes him with an icy glare. "Do you have any idea how much harder you've made it for Tori and me to live in the Slytherin quarters? I sleep with one eye open, constantly fearing they'll come after me when I'm most vulnerable."

It's true. She doesn't remember when was the last time she had a full night's sleep.

"I can see why Tori might face problems," he muses, folding his arms across his chest. "But you? I thought you'd be shrewd enough to distance yourself from all this and play the part of the oblivious bystander."

"She's my sister. You're an idiot if you think I'd ever leave her to the wolves." She catches the flicker of respect in his eyes as she begins recounting how she deliberately made herself the pariah, redirecting their fury onto her instead.

"That's… admirable." He leans against a nearby bench. "Though you needn't have. I doubt anyone is dumb enough to attack Tori after they saw my power. She would've been safe even without you sacrificing your reputation."

She lets out a low, mirthless chuckle. "You think so? Don't underestimate their blind rage and utter stupidity, Evans. Allow me to tell you something hilarious. They're planning to attack your older sister on the night of the Yule Ball. Their aim? To drag her away and subject her to… unspeakable acts, to break her and remind her of her so-called 'proper place'."

…

…

"Is that so?" He smiles blankly, his tone bereft of any humour.

The air around them seems to have frozen. Every noise fades into oblivion. The very world comes to halt, as if waiting for her answer.

She swallows and nods stiffly. "That's why I'm here. If all I wanted was to berate you for putting my sister in danger, I wouldn't have waited nearly a month. I'm here to warn you—to tell you to stay on your guard. While you may be powerful enough to kill a thousand people with nothing but a shout, your sisters aren't."

"Who is the mastermind behind this 'brilliant' plan?" he asks, his smile gone, replaced with a thoughtful frown.

"I'm afraid this order came from higher up," she replies cautiously. "Bellatrix Lestrange has been out of Azkaban for some time now, and it's no surprise that certain members of Slytherin are growing more emboldened to prove their loyalty. There's even talk that the Dark Lord's return is imminent, which only bolsters their confidence. They believe that even if they're caught after despoiling your sister, they have enough influence in the government to escape with little more than a slap on the wrist. This allows them to think there won't be any consequences for their actions."

She refrains from telling him that the Dark Lord is almost certainly already back, or that she played a significant role in his return. He doesn't need to know that. Besides, certain truths are locked away, bound by oaths she cannot break.

"Do you too think the Dark Lord is back? Do you think I'll let the matter go to the DMLE or the Wizengamot?"

She feels the pressure on her soul, as the unbreakable vow she had given to Bellatrix Lestrange tightens its grip. "I cannot say if the Dark Lord is back or not. And I know you enough to inform you in advance before you blow up the castle in your rage."

He fixes her with an intense look. "I see. I guess the wizarding world will be needing a hero soon. I wonder who will step up to take the mantle. Dumbledore has gotten too old for it, I reckon."

Smart and terrifying. He's already scheming how to turn the Dark Lord's second rise to his own advantage. And if he manages to kill You-Know-Who, the wizarding world would undoubtedly put him on a pedestal. Will he actually manage it? She doesn't know. While she has witnessed him obliterate a mountain with nothing but a shout, she's also heard far too many horror stories about the Dark Lord.

If she had to bet, though, her money would be on Harry. Not just because she's seen his power firsthand, but because his victory would mean avoiding another dark age. She's read about the war, a decade of chaos that raged both in the shadows and out in the open. Living through something like that isn't something she'd wish on anyone.

Truth be told, if she could, she would have already spilled everything. But oaths have bound her tongue, leaving her helpless. All she can do is hope she hasn't brought another dark age.

"Do with that information whatever you will."

He gives her a nod. "Thanks for telling me. Though you're wrong about one thing. Rose is actually strong enough to take care of herself. Didn't you watch the first task?"

She concedes the point with a slight tilt of her head. She had seen her in action, that impossible speed. "True. But a curse to the back when she's caught off guard would still take her out just as easily."

"Right. Do you know who will be leading this attack?"

"Theodore Nott. Originally, it was supposed to be Malfoy. But you've left a strong impression on him. He's scared of attacking you. So he passed the job on to him."

"I'm kind of disappointed I wouldn't be able to thrash Malfoy for this."

"I doubt you'd need a reason for that," she offers slyly. That arrogant prick needs to be brought down. If it weren't for him, she wouldn't be forced into this situation.

"Your initiative to help me on your own has… pleased me, Daphne. I've decided to offer you a reward." He steps closer, resting his hands on her shoulders, almost like a proud father.

It annoys her that his praise makes her heart flutter.

Resisting a scowl, she quips, "For the love of Merlin, please don't make it sexual. I've heard enough about such 'rewards' throughout my years at Hogwarts."

"For all that elegance and class, your mind's firmly in the gutter." He rolls his eyes.

"You're the same prick who… used my mother's mouth."

"...Okay. I guess that's understandable. But unless you're planning to insult my existence, you'll never be in her place," he reassures her, squeezing her shoulders. "Now, enough digressing. Tell me, if you were given a super power, what would it be?"

Her forehead creases, stumped by his question. "What?"

"Just answer me. If you were standing before a genie and had the opportunity to ask for a particular power, what would it be? Humour me."

She sighs. "If I could, I would want the ability to be safe, a place where I could relax without worrying about a trap or being mobbed. A safe zone, to be more precise, where nothing or no one could hurt me, where I could sleep the night away."

Golden light floods her body, and she flinches instinctively. But before she could react, it's already over.

He gives her shoulders a brief pat and steps back. "I've granted you the power of a safe zone. It creates a five-metre radius around you, where you're practically unkillable. Within this area, you can't be harmed. You can even make it a barrier to keep others out. The only catch is that you can only use it for 20 hours a day."

…

…

"What?"

"I hope you'll save me a dance," he says with a playful smile, his eyes lingering on hers before he turns and leaves the room without another word.

She's left amazed and bewildered, unable to wrap her head around what just happened. She'd be calling his claim ludicrous if she weren't able to feel the new power in her veins.

He really gave her a new power, as if he were a genie, as if he were a benevolent god.

She falls to her knees, the strength leaving her body, heaving, realising she doesn't know anything about him. Even the Dark Lord wasn't able to gift such powers to his followers. Within a second, he picked a normal witch and made her something nearly divine.

She decides never to insult him again. Her mother got away way easily for condescending an entity like him.

There's no doubt in her mind now. No Dark Lord will be able to defeat Harry.

She wonders if anyone can.

~xXxXx~

Bellatrix Lestrange. When I get my hands on her, she'll go through hell.

She dares to give an order like that for my sister?

As a woman, she should know better. But apparently, she doesn't. I have a loose moral code that keeps me from becoming the worst person imaginable, but for her, I'll make an exception. If someone can command such a cruel attack, they must be ready to endure it themselves.

I'll show her what her 'proper' place really is. In my dungeon, in chains.

Pushing down my rage, I turn my thoughts to other revelations.

Voldemort is back, probably. The boogeyman of Britain isn't dead anymore. How and why? I don't care. When the time comes, I'll take the title of hero and all the benefits that come with it. If Dumbledore could beat him, I'm sure I'll swat him like a fly.

But now's not the time to burn with thoughts of revenge and glory.

No. The conversation with Daphne has opened my eyes. There will always be brainless fools ready to leap into the fire, even knowing they'll burn.

I have to protect everyone I love from these fools.

I'll spare a few clones to shadow my friends and family. That should be enough.

~xXxXx~

The night of the Yule Ball is cold, but no one can feel it when they're within the castle walls. The very walls seem to radiate warmth, and the yellow flames burning low in the large braziers provide heat where the magic cannot.

I'm standing near the double doors of the Great Hall, patiently awaiting my date. Tonight, I'm dressed to the nines. The hem of my white shirt is neatly tucked into my pastel blue trousers, a waistcoat in the same shade accentuates my torso, and the tailcoat completes the refined look.

I'm looking good, if I do say so myself. The desirous expressions on the girls' faces certainly seem to agree with my assessment.

I smile at Hermione as she walks into the Great Hall. She's wearing a pink, frilly, strapless dress that leaves her collarbone on display. Her slightly curly hair is styled straight, falling over one shoulder. And her eyes gleam when they meet mine.

I'm glad she isn't on the arm of some boy. While I never explicitly asked her not to bring a date, her choice to come alone brings an undeniable sense of relief. When I began this friends-with-benefits relationship with her, I was prepared to let her go when she found herself a boyfriend. Now, it's different. She's mine. Even the thought of someone else touching her like I do makes me nauseous.

The arrival of the Beauxbatons champions pulls me from my reverie. I raise my eyebrows when I realise they're actually each other's dates. Gabrielle has donned a sparkling silver dress with noodle-thin straps. It hugs her perfect figure, highlighting her well-proportioned curves. While it shows no cleavage and doesn't have a thigh-high slit, it doesn't appear any less… bold. Her silver-blonde hair is swept up in a chignon, exposing her pale slender neck.

Teresa, on the other hand, is simply wearing her usual white bodysuit, fitting like a second skin. Even her hairstyle remains the same—parted in the middle, framing her head from the sides and the back. At least she doesn't have her claymore strapped to her back tonight. I can't help but wonder if she'd have put more thought into her appearance if I had accepted her invitation.

They halt beside me at Professor McGonagall's signal, who herself is garbed in elegant tartan-patterned dress robes.

Next to arrive is the Durmstrang pair, and it's no surprise they've chosen to attend together.

It seems all of us champions just decided to go along with our team partners.

When it's Rose's turn to grace us with her presence, we all gasp together. She's in an ethereal blue dress, a shimmering gown that glistens as though spun from moonlight itself. The bodice fits her perfectly, adorned with delicate silver embroidery that catches the light with every movement. The gown flows down from her waist in layers of soft, flowing fabric, the hem brushing the floor as she moves, creating a soft trail behind her.

The skirt billows gracefully, and the blue hue changes subtly with every step, shifting from a deep azure to a lighter, almost translucent shade. It's as though she's wearing the very sky, its depths captured in the folds of the gown. Her crimson hair is fashioned in soft waves and pulled back elegantly. Glass slippers encase her feet, completing the other-worldly view.

Rose looks like she's stepped out of a fairy tale, a vision of grace and beauty, and for a moment, the antechamber falls completely silent, spellbound by her presence.

I guess [Cindrella's Ball Gown] was useful for something.

Smiling, I move forward and offer my hand. "Your beauty even overshadows Veelas," I whisper as she links our elbows. "How does it feel?"

"Uncomfortable. Why did I let you convince me to put on this magical gown?" she whispers back through a faltering smile. "When are they going to stop staring?"

I turn to Professor McGonagall, who's too busy gaping at Rose. "Professor?"

"Er… yes, yes. Champions, form a line. First, Mr. Marinov and Ms. Helvig. Then, Ms. Delacour and Ms. Clare. And finally, Mr. and Ms. Evans."

That breaks the trance and everyone stops staring at her. Though 'subtle' glances are still stolen.

"I'm going to kill you, Harry," she hisses, clutching my arm, her face pink. "I knew I shouldn't have worn this."

"Don't act like you weren't over the moon when I showed you the dress. At least it's modest and not ironically revealing like Gabrielle's or Teresa's. Everyone's looking at you because you're ethereal and not because your dress clings to your tits and arse."

She can't retort and simply pinches my bicep.

As we walk in and make our way towards the head table, every pair of eyes jumps to her. Cinderella's blue gown paired with Rose's natural beauty is almost a heavenly sight. Even Mum's jaw is on the floor when she sees us.

As instructed, we take our designated seats. Thankfully, we are positioned between Mum on one side and Gabrielle on the other.

Mum leans to the side and asks. "I don't recognise this dress, Rose."

"Harry got it for me," she answers sullenly, not appreciating the attention on her.

I'm not even lying. When I offered, she snatched the dress like a greedy goblin. And now she has the audacity to act like a victim, as if I forced her in that dress.

Mum's green eyes peer through the square-rimmed glasses. She's enveloped in a satin red gown. Her hair is down for once, and even with the intimidation effect on her glasses, I'm sure many boys will be wondering if they should risk asking her for a dance. While her own dress appears drab and colorless beside Rose's, she exudes a quiet, mature beauty that attracts lustful gazes from all age groups. "Is that so?"

"Yes, Professor." I nod. "I happened upon the dress and thought Rose could use it for tonight."

"That was nice of you. She's like starlight personified. I may be biased, but you look the prettiest, Rosie." Mum smiles, caressing her back, eliciting a blush from the bratty one.

"Thanks, Mu—Professor."

I place my chin on my steepled fingers. "You sure? Maybe you didn't give others a thorough look. Try again."

Mum rolls her eyes. "You look pretty, too, Harry; no need to get jealous."

Gabrielle giggles beside me, and even Teresa looks amused.

After Dumbledore shows us how to summon our choice of dish, we have a pleasant chat while eating. Gabrielle is the one who talks the most, excitedly describing the different Christmas events that they hold at her school, prompting us to join in and talk about our own ways of celebrating. As the conversation shifts to the tournament, we offer compliments to one other. But when the question of 'how we did it' comes up, no one seems ready to divulge their secrets.

Once the dinner concludes, Dumbledore rises gracefully and extends his hand to Madame Maxime, inviting her to the dance floor, his eyes twinkling. The piano and violins swell in perfect harmony at that moment, as if tempting everyone, their notes cascading through the Great Hall like a spell, filling the air with a soft, enchanting melody.

Teresa and Gabrielle follow their example, stepping on the dance floor, but only one of them seems excited.

As Kiril and Thyra glide away too, I stand up and proffer my hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Her eyes shine with mirth as she clasps it. "What if I say no?"

"Then I'll take that beautiful professor instead." I point at mum with my chin, who chuckles.

"Prat." Rose snorts and allows me to escort her where the three pairs have begun dancing.

I place my left hand on the small of her back and grab her hand with the other. Her idle hand falls on my shoulder.

"I'll kick you if you step on my foot," she mumbles, going stiff as she becomes the centre of attention again.

As if, my [Dance Savant] skill probably makes me the best dancer in the world.

"Rosie, close your eyes and let me do all the work. Just follow my lead, okay?" I tug her a little closer. We're not close enough to spark scandalous rumours, but we're near enough that our chests will brush occasionally.

She nods, doing as told, and I step forward.

It must be the skill at play, because I know perfectly what to do and how to do it. I even know her limits and body movements, aware how far I can push her.

It won't be a lie to say I've become an ideal dance partner.

As our bodies move in sync, I'm dunked in her vanilla perfume and witness her beauty from up close.

Nothing changes. She's just as dazzling.

Minutes fly by, and Rose's face is bright with a smile as she dances happily, having forgotten about all the eyes on her, probably because her eyelids are shut tight.

If we were in private, I'd have her wrapped in my arms by now. But social norms keep us apart, a torturous gap of space that is rarely bridged when our bodies touch.

I swirl her. I pull her in for gratifying momentary embraces, and then push her out spinning. I spin by myself in my place, and let her twist around me. I even grab her by the waist and gently lift her up, turning around once, twice, and thrice, until her laughter is loud enough to be heard over the music.

When I put her down, the song ends. But our dance does not. As the music begins anew, so do we. Unlike the other pairs, we continue taking up space on the dance floor, even as we are crowded by the dancing students.

I dance with her for three more songs.

~xXxXx~

Unlike with Rose, I can take liberties with Hermione in public.

My arms are wound tightly around her waist, while hers are coiled around my neck. We are stuck hip to hip, trying to be as close as we physically can. And it's more gentle swaying than dancing.

"I love you," she whispers against my chest.

There's an edge to her voice, a desperation, a thirst for reciprocation.

A pang of guilt twists in my chest. In a normal world, she would've been my only girlfriend, the one person I gave my whole heart to. But this isn't a normal world, and now she must share my attention with so many others

"I love you, too." I pull away slightly to angle her chin up and plant a sound, reassuring kiss on her lips.

She sighs and her mouth curves up in a smile, the tenseness slowly leaving her body.

"I'm sorry I didn't take you," I say.

She shakes her head, my palms still cupping her face. "It's fine. I'm glad Rose was able to enjoy tonight. She couldn't have if it were someone else. It had to be you."

I kiss her again for being understanding.

As the music begins fading, her grip tightens on me. "Can I have one more dance?"

"How about two?"

I spend the next two songs pressed up against her, swaying lightly.

~xXxXx~

Katie is more upbeat than Hermione, grinning as I whirl her around and yank her back first into me.

She hums when I lock my arms around her belly, keeping her firmly in my clutch. Her round arse feels too nice against my crotch to change into a new position. It makes me thankful how thin the material of my trousers and her dress are. It's almost as if we're naked.

Her head falls to the side, presenting her neck, and I promptly bury my face against her hot skin.

Our fast and energetic dance turns into a slow, passionate sway.

Even though her body is thin and wiry, harder than other girls, she's soft in all the right places. And her wet-earth, petrichor scent tempts my nostrils, like it always does.

I breathe in her scent and squeeze her gently.

"I wish you luck in hiding that boner once the song ends," she says, resting the back of her head on my shoulder.

"I can find a nice place to hide it."

Her lips twitch, her eyes remaining closed. "You're shameless, aren't you?"

"You should know that by now."

She laughs, nudging me with her elbow until I loosen my hold, so she can face me. Before I can react, she grabs my collar and pulls me into a kiss—right there on the dance floor. But this isn't a brief peck, like the one with Hermione. No, this is full-on snogging, her lips fierce and unapologetic, as if she's staking her claim in front of everyone.

We ignore the murmurs and sway while our lips and tongues engage in their own little dance.

~xXxXx~

Iris and Astoria leave after a single dance each, finding the floor too crowded and dull for their liking. Meanwhile, Teresa is nowhere to be found. I had hoped to share a dance with her, but it seems she has already returned to the Beauxbatons Carriage.

I glance at the head table, where Mum shoots down another brave soul with that cold, professor-like stare. I desperately want to drag her to the dance floor and prove myself special, but she's already declared she won't dance at the Yule Ball. Apparently, a wholesome dance with her son is a step too far for a strict professor. Whatever. I'll swing her around when we're alone. It's not like I'm missing much—besides, I might even convince her to do a naked duet.

Before my wandering eyes can find my next partner, my next partner finds me.

She approaches me with sashaying hips. And what hips they are. I can see one of them jutting out from the slit in her dress. Like her younger sister, Fleur wears a silver gown, but unlike Gabrielle, Fleur's dress isn't just a second skin—it's a second skin with a daring low neckline and a bold slit that leaves little to the imagination.

The cleavage she's showing is almost too much, and the slit in her dress nearly reaches her waist. Either she's not wearing knickers, or if she is, it's a thong—that's the only explanation I can come up with for why her entire leg is exposed.

One thing I can be sure of—she's not wearing a bra. Those perfect breasts jiggle with every step, and the outline of her nipples is clearly visible through the silver fabric for anyone to stare at.

I do not stare. Well, not much.

"'Arry!" She greets me like an old friend, grabbing my shoulders and pressing kisses on my cheeks. "You look fabulous!"

I notice she has dropped the exaggerated French accent for this talk. While it's still not native, it's a slight thing rather than an artificial one suited for condescension.

"Not more than you, I'm sure." I smile politely, placing my hands on her waist when she chooses to keep hers on my shoulders.

Her perfume makes my mouth water, something fruity and delectable.

It honestly makes me want to lay her down on a kitchen table and eat her piece by piece.

She chuckles. "I will not argue that point."

"May I have this dance?" I ask, knowing that's why she's here.

"I thought you would never ask."

Her fingers entwine with mine, and we move to the dance floor.

"You can 'old me close. I do not mind," she smirks, pressing her breasts against my chest.

My arms snake around her waist, while hers loop around my neck. It's quite intimate for our first dance, but who am I to complain?

We move slowly, stepping back and forth or side to side.

Her scent, her soft flesh, and her heat, they all seemed to be tailor made to enslave a man. I can only shudder to think how effective she'd have been if her allure worked on me.

"Am I right to assume you've got something you want to talk about?"

Her pink lips curl into a smile. "Yes, while you are proving to be a better dancer than I thought, I do 'ave something in my mind. Also, if you do not slip your 'and through the slit and grab my derrière, I would start thinking you do not like girls."

I'll not miss this chance in a million years. My one arm unwinds from her waist and slides down her bare thigh. Her skin is smooth and warm, and her flesh is firm but yielding. Changing direction from downwards to the side, my knuckles brush her silver dress as they slip in and meet the round swell of her 'derrière'.

I gulp down the excess saliva as my fingers dig into it, as I grab a voluptuous cheek.

Fleur reacts with a dramatic gasp. "So you do like girls."

"I only like girls."

"Not women? Mmm, maybe that is why you 'aven't been affected by my beauty."

I squeeze her arse, and her tongue peeks out to glide over her kissable lips. "You don't know how much you affect me. Why, you must be feeling it already," I subtly grind myself on her hip, making her eyes sparkle, "but you're not here for that. So out with it, Fleur."

"I need cooperation." She rubs my chest lightly, her fingers playing with the top button. "I 'ave 'eard you and Teresa are a thing. Nice going, by the way. As you know, my little sister is 'er partner. They are meant to team up and earn glory for themselves and the school. But Teresa is what you call a 'loose cannon'. She does not follow plans and strategies. She does as she wishes. It is 'urting my sister's chance to make a name. I want you to talk to 'er on my behalf. I want you to convince 'er to let Gabby lead the second task. This is a rare chance for my sister to prove 'erself. I do not want it to go to waste."

"I see." We continue to dance. "What do I get if I manage to make her see it your way?"

"What do you want?" She presses even closer.

"A date with you, obviously." I give her arse another squeeze.

She titters. "Are we not already past that? I would 'ave thought you would be more direct."

"Regardless, I'd rather enjoy a pleasant date and get to know more than just your name before we do that. Maybe we won't last one night, or maybe we can have something more than a transaction. A relationship."

She hums again, an odd playful smile on her face. "For a famous playboy, you are trying too 'ard to make it more than just sex. But okay, if you manage to get through that thick 'ead of Teresa, I will go on a date with you. 'Appy?"

I smile as the song winds down, reluctantly letting her go. "Very."

"'Ow about you dance with my Gabby?" She points to Gabrielle sitting all alone in a chair. "She 'as been staring at you for the last 'our. Just do not grab 'er derrière."

Look, another chance to bag another Veela.

"No promises."

~xXxXx~

Theodore Nott

The world is an unfair place, he's always known that.

It's cruel and unjust. Deserving people face hardships, while the undeserving languish in luxury. Unworthy are put on a fast track, while the worthy are thrown in a trench.

The House Nott was once great. It was old and rich, able to stand beside the likes of Malfoys and Blacks. Then the war happened, and the winning side took everything from them. His father and uncles were incarcerated, sentenced for life, their properties seized by the government. It was only because of Lucius Malfoy that they were able to get out.

Unfortunately, that whole affair cost them money.

Now, House Nott is just an old house without any wealth.

But the times are changing. He can smell the opportunity in the air. The house of snakes has gotten busier with politicking and backstabbing. And unlike Draco, the boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he'll have to prove himself. He'll have to show them that he has the mental fortitude to carry out any types of attacks against the mudbloods.

On some level, he knows what he's going to do is downright evil.

But in a war, only winning matters, not good or evil.

He wants to win. He wants to restore his House back to its old prestige. And what better way to do that then use the very war that took everything from them?

Keeping his wand to the side, he creeps after Rose Evans as she leaves the lavatory.

He's been following her and her brother since they left the Great Hall. He was puzzled when they snuck into an abandoned classroom for reasons unknown. If he were the type to indulge in gossip, this would definitely be prime material for an incest rumor. Barely a minute later, she came out alone and headed for the nearby lavatory, leaving him confused. Why wasn't her brother with her? Still, he was grateful for the twist of fortune. Harry Evans' powers are vast and mysterious, and while he has the spells and weapons needed to defeat him, he's relieved he didn't have to face him. Even so, a knot of discomfort still lingered.

He watches as she walks away. Her hands are busy keeping her skirt from dragging on the ground. She's defenceless without a wand. It's the perfect time to attack.

With a pounding chest, he aims his wand at her and mutters, "Stupefy!"

The spell hits her right in the back and she falls over with a quiet thud.

…

…

When she remains unconscious, he releases the breath he was holding and hurries towards her.

Rose Evans is lying on her side, her hair undone and spilling around her beautiful face.

His heart now thunders for another reason, pumping blood southwards, as he stares at the vulnerable beauty of Hogwarts. His eyes travel down her neck and lingers on her renowned breasts. They are presently squashed beneath her.

He pushes her on her back before he knows it.

His cock throbs in his trousers as he gapes at her.

Even without this ethereal dress and the glass slippers, she's known as the most beautiful girl in the castle. But with these on, she looks like a goddess from above. Someone divine and feminine.

He wants to fuck a goddess. Who doesn't want to fuck a goddess?

Maybe it's the situation where she's so vulnerable and left at his mercy, or maybe it's just that he's finally able to breathe the same air as her. Whatever the reason, he hasn't been this hard in his life, the feeling almost unbearable as he struggles to focus on anything else.

His mouth is dry, and now his head is pounding with desire. He knows he should take her to the appointed room of her ruination, but the sudden urge to take her virginity clashes with his rationality. Everyone knows she's never had a boyfriend, and it's near certain that someone yet has to pierce her. He wants himself to do that, instead of the older boys waiting in that classroom, to see his cum mix with her blood. And though he is 'leading' this attack, he knows he won't be able to stop them when they see her like this.

He wants to peel off her dress and kiss every patch of her pale skin. He wants to grab her hair and push her face against the cold floor as he fuck her from behind. No, he wants to fuck her from everywhere. From up, down, back, front. He wants to claim every inch of her. He wants to use her mouth, cunt, butt, tits, neck, hands, even her hair, especially her hair.

He wants her whole.

He realises he's panting like a beast. He notices he's kneeling beside her, preparing to rip off her dress and grope her breasts.

Just as he's about to do that, a strange calmness overpowers his lust.

He pushes back to his feet and levitates her body before him, taking her to the room where other 10 boys, ranging from third-years to all the way to seventh-years are waiting.

He's glad he came back to his senses. He almost jeopardised their mission because he was horny. Such a foolish mistake.

Shaking his head, he carries her to an abandoned classroom.

"Finally!" A third-year boy leaps to his feet from the bench, detecting his arrival. "Is she really her?"

The others laugh at the eager boy.

Theo ignores the dumb kid and walks over to the professor's desk, where he sets her down.

It isn't only him whose eyes fix on the slight bounce of her chest.

Before he can sheathe his wand, all the goons have swarmed the desk, shoving one other to get a better look at their own 'Helen of Troy'.

"We've already decided our turns." Theo speaks calmly, aware that yelling will only make him look weak.

They grumble and shoot him mutinous glares but move away, bar Reginald and Shane, who got lucky and are meant to go first along with him.

"Wake the mudblood," Reggie whispers hoarsely, never taking his eyes off her tits. "It won't be fun if she doesn't scream and cry."

Theo frowns at that. He'd rather fuck her while she's silent and vulnerable, unable to fight or screech. But Lady Black's orders are to 'break her' and not to 'have fun' with her.

Reluctantly, he wakes her up.

His frown deepens. Did she wake up before the spell even hit? No, he must be imagining things.

Rose Evans sits up, looking utterly unfazed being surrounded by these many boys.

"Do you know what we're going to do, bitch?" Shane cackles, having already whipped out his cock, stroking himself to full mast.

"I can imagine." She wrinkles her nose. "I assume you all are going to take turns with me until I'm 'broken', correct?"

Theo growls and takes a step forward. "Beg for mercy, and maybe we'll be gentle."

Her laugh is both annoying and strange. Why's she not frightened?

"You know what? Fuck this. It's not amusing like I thought it would be." She slides off the desk and begins walking towards the door.

For some reason, they all instinctively move away to let her go.

It irritates him. What is happening?

"Wait," he yells and throws a mild curse at her back, hoping to drive the point through her Gryffindor skull.

She simply steps away and turns to them.

Even in the well-lit room, her green eyes seem to glow brighter than anything.

"Sleep and never wake up. Be trapped in nightmares forever."

As soon as the command is spoken, Theo's vision darkens.

When he wakes up, he finds himself in a black pit with snakes biting him everywhere.

~xXxXx~

Rose, now in the body of Harry, waits in another abandoned classroom. She never knew her brother could change bodies by kissing.

She wonders if she could convince him to try some things with that power.

Blushing, she pushes her hand in the trousers and grabs Harry's dick.

It feels... nice.