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Bratty Daphne (Ch. 2 - A New Deal)
🕑 Added 2024-11-13 02:42:45 +0000 UTCHarry never got to show Daphne the real him. He never got to prove himself to her. She had come on Friday as promised, she had taken the essay, and she had left without a word. Just like that.
She had dressed more conservatively that day, as well, Harry noticed. It made it all the more clear that now that she had got what she wanted, she no longer felt the need to prance around in breast-escaping blouses and skirts so short that they could give an innocent man a heart attack.
But even then, she had still looked as radiant as ever. Her ass had been on full display in her tight jeans, the tight fabric stretching to accommodate her voluptuous cheeks and wide hips. It was a sight to behold, watching her walk out of the library, her ass swaying from side to side with every step she took, a silent, longing audience of one.
He had waited a couple of days after that, hoping that she would seek him out again. Hoping that maybe she would have come to her senses, seen the genius he was and thanked him for the help.
But she never did.
And so, feeling like a fool for having fallen for her act, Harry had gone to Flitwick to confess.
"I have to confess, Professor," Harry had said, his voice strained, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. "I... I wrote Miss Greengrass' essay for her."
Professor Flitwick had looked at him, his eyes narrowed in thought. "It was obvious that it wasn't Miss Greengrass' work," he had replied, "And while I am disappointed that you would even entertain the idea in the first place, Mr Potter, I appreciate your honesty and candour in coming to me with it."
Harry had breathed a sigh of relief at that. He had expected the man to be furious at him, to scream and shout, to threaten to expel him from the school for undermining the very spirit of its existence. But all he had done was thank him.
"But you understand, don't you, that I can't let this behaviour slide," Professor Flitwick had continued, his voice stern. "The essays serve a purpose. They are a measure of the students' understanding of the subject, and I cannot afford to give a student a pass if they have not demonstrated at least a satisfactory level of understanding of the subject matter."
Harry had nodded, his heart sinking. He knew what the professor was going to say. He had expected it, and yet, he had hoped he would have been wrong.
"I will not fail Miss Greengrass, but only on the condition that you do what it seems I could not; teach her the subject matter of the essay to a satisfactory degree," Flitwick had said, returning to his old, jovial self.
"But how am I supposed to do that, Professor?" Harry had asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "She's... she's not really one for studying. I'm not sure if she would even show up if I asked her to."
Professor Flitwick had a glint in his eye at that. It was a familiar look, one that Harry had seen before in only the greatest mind he had ever met; Albus Dumbledore.
It was the look of a man who had a plan, a man who had already accounted for every variable. It was the look of a man who had already won, long before the match had even started. And Harry had a feeling that he was in for a wild ride.
"I have an idea," he had replied, his voice filled with a certainty that Harry could not even begin to understand.
But that was also where their meeting had ended. For just like Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick seemed to be of the mind that the less Harry knew about his plan, the better, and so he had been sent away with nothing but a knowing nod and a cryptic smile.
Days had passed since he had met with Professor Flitwick. He had spent them in the library, studying and reading, as he so often did these days. It had been a peaceful time, and one that he had enjoyed.
But as he sat there, a book in front of him, his mind lost in thought, he heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking against the marble floor. And he knew, with a certainty, that the peace and quiet he had both cherished and reviled, were about to be shattered.
Harry looked up from his book just in time to see Daphne storm in, her eyes flashing with anger, her hair wild and free. He couldn't help but swallow hard at the sight of her. She looked fantastic, her tits practically protruding again from her skimpy top, the fabric stretching around her chest like a second skin, barely holding back the overflowing flesh. And her ass was showing in a short mini skirt, the fabric so short that he could see the bottom of her cheeks.
Judging by her attire, it seemed she was here for business. And if Daphne's raging expression was anything to go by, Harry surmised that he was just about to learn the full extent of Professor Flitwick's wicked plan.
"I told you not to make it too good, didn't I?!" Daphne shouted. In her hands, she held an essay, the page stained with a big, fat, red 'Outstanding' written on it. "Now Flitwick thinks I'm some kind of wannabe dweeb like you!"
Harry swallowed hard, trying to think of what to do. He was absolutely certain that the trash he had written could not have possibly earned such a high grade. Daphne had asked for a sloppy essay after all, and yet, there it was, staring him in the face.
Was this all part of Professor Flitwick's plan? Harry wondered. And if so, what was the part-goblin's endgame?
But before he could think on it any longer, Daphne threw another piece of paper on the table, the paper landing softly on the wood. "And now, he's given me this!" she said, gathering herself together, her voice regaining some semblance of calm. "What are you going to do about it?"
Harry picked up the piece of paper, his eyes scanning the words quickly. It seemed that while congratulating Daphne on her outstanding work, Professor Flitwick had assigned her extra work, the subject clearly advanced and beyond her curriculum.
"I don't know what this is!" Daphne said, throwing her hands up in frustration, her breasts almost popping out of her top. "And I'm supposed to deliver it by next Wednesday!"
It was then that Harry finally realised Professor Flitwick's brilliant plan. Because hidden beneath his calm and collected exterior, beneath the gentle smile he always had on his face, was a man who was so much more than he let on.
He was a man who had understood the situation from the beginning, who had seen the entire picture when he had been given only a small part of it. He was a man who was as wise and as cunning as the great Albus Dumbledore, and Harry thanked the heavens for having the greatest wing-man of them all.
This essay wasn't for Daphne at all, it was for him.
Flitwick had known from the start that Daphne would be back, begging for Harry's help, and so he had given her an essay on the one subject that Harry would be more than eager to write; Chronokinetic Conjuring.
Harry looked up at Daphne, his grin wide. "You're in deep trouble with this one, Daphne," he said. "This is advanced stuff!"
Only a moment of worry crossed Daphne's face, before her familiar expression of assurance returned. It was a look that Harry knew well, a look that tried to convey that nothing was ever beyond her reach.
"Trouble? Me?" she said, her voice dripping with a sweetness that was as fake as the smile on her face. "I'm not worried at all. After all, I have the best writer in the world right here!"
And with that, she leaned forward, her breasts almost spilling out of her top. Harry couldn't help but stare at the sight, his eyes locked on the two soft orbs. It was a sight to behold, the areolas of her breasts peeking out of the tight fabric, the soft flesh spilling out from the top like a river overflowing its banks.
She was so used to using her body to get what she wanted, that she didn't even think twice about it. And Harry, the fool that he was, couldn't help but watch, his eyes transfixed, his mind a whirlwind of lewd thoughts.
She looked at him with her pouty, dick-sucking lips and her raised brows, her arms crossed under her tits, the fabric of her blouse stretched to its very limit. Her face was a picture of innocence and seduction, and Harry had no doubt that she knew exactly what she was doing, as well as the exact thoughts racing through his horny mind.
"Come on, Harry, don't you want to help your favourite classmate?" Daphne said, her voice dripping with the sugary sweetness she had perfected so well.
Harry looked at her, his brain barely working at all. It was true, he did want to help her, but at the same time, he wanted more than just a simple thank you. He wanted more than just a simple smile.
Last time, he had fallen for her tricks, and he had regretted it ever since. But this time, he wasn't going to be so easily swayed by her charms. This time, he was going to be the one with the last laugh.
And so, Harry proposed the only thing he could think of that would make this a fair game.
"Show me your tits," he blurted out.
Daphne's face changed dramatically at that. Gone was the smile, gone was the sweetness, gone was the innocence. Shock and a hint of embarrassment were now the only things left on her face.
"What!?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "You can't be serious, Harry!"
Harry couldn't help but worry that maybe he had gone too far. That this was the last time he would get a look down her blouse. It was clear that Daphne wasn't used to being at the other end of the bargain, always being the one who took.
But he couldn't back down now. He had made his position clear, and he wasn't going to change his mind now.
"I am serious," he said. "You always like using your body to get everyone to work for you. What you are suggesting we do is more than just helping you with your homework. This is academic collusion! I'll get in just as much trouble as you if we get caught!"
That last part wasn't strictly true. Harry had already admitted his involvement in Daphne's first essay, and Flitwick had assured him that neither of them would face any consequences as long as Harry followed through with his end of the agreement.
"If you regret it, you can always tell Flitwick the truth," Harry continued. "Tell him that you got someone to write your essay for you, and that your won't be able to deliver this one."
Daphne looked at him, her face a picture of shock. "Tell him!? He'll fail me!"
"I'm sure he'll think better of you than if you get caught doing this. I'm sure he'll appreciate your honesty." Professor Flitwick had appreciated his honesty after all.
Daphne looked at him for a while, deep in contemplation. Her eyes scanned his face, her mind weighing the options in front of her.
And then she smiled, her smile as dazzling as ever, her teeth shining brightly, her eyes twinkling like the brightest stars in the sky.
"Five seconds," she said, matter-of-factly.
"What!?" Harry exclaimed. He couldn't believe what she was saying. He had really tried to get her to back down from this wicked plan that Flitwick had secretly concocted. But it seemed that she was as stubborn as ever, and not even his words could change her mind. Especially, he realised then, if those words were the truth.
"Five seconds," Daphne repeated, her voice filled with the same sweetness. "I'll show you my tits for five seconds."
"Ten," Harry said, his voice firm. Not that it really mattered the exact number of seconds, but it was the principle of the matter. He had to show Daphne that she couldn't just order him around as she pleased. She would show him her tits on his premise.
"Eight," Daphne countered, a look of defiance on her face. "Take it or leave it."
"Deal," Harry said, grinning. He could already feel the excitement bubbling in his chest.
But Harry wasn't the only one with a triumphant grin on his face. Daphne too was looking at him, a smug look of satisfaction on her face, as if the deal had been struck exactly how she had wanted it to.
At least until she realised what she had actually agreed to.
"I can't believe I just agreed to that," she muttered under her breath, a hint of red colouring her cheeks. "I've never had to do that before..."
Harry couldn't help but watch as she blushed, her cheeks transitioning to a deeper shade of red. It was a side of her he had never seen before, a side of her that seemed so... so unlike the Daphne he knew.
But a side he was extremely eager to see more of.
"Well, don't keep me waiting," Harry said, his voice filled with anticipation. He could already feel the excitement bubbling in his chest, his heart racing at the thought of seeing Daphne's tits.
"Fine," Daphne said. "But you only get the first four seconds now! I need to see a finished essay before I deliver the rest!"
Harry laughed. "You drive a hard bargain, Miss Greengrass," he joked, his eyes glued to where her perfect tits were about to make their grand appearance.
"Of course I do," Daphne said, a hint of her usual arrogance returning to her voice. "I'm a Greengrass. We have standards!" She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with every breath, her tits stretching the fabric of her blouse in step with her movements.
She really was stupid, Harry thought. If she wanted to bare her tits not just once, but twice for his enjoyment, that was perfectly fine by him. He wasn't going to complain about having a second helping of the most divine sight he would ever get to see.
And then, slowly, she reached for the hem of her blouse, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped the thin fabric. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked onto Harry's.
And then, with a deep breath, she pulled her blouse up, her tits spilling out of the fabric, the sight of them making Harry's blood boil in delight.
The first thing that struck him was her lack of a bra. She really had come prepared. Where before she had just been straining the fabric of her blouse, now, there was nothing left to conceal her heavenly breasts. She was completely naked from the waist up, her tits hanging low, the soft flesh swaying gently as she breathed, her nipples hardening quickly in the cold air of the library.
They were so much bigger than he had imagined, the soft flesh stretching out before his eyes, his mind struggling to comprehend just how perfect they were. They were the kind of tits that only existed in dreams, and in the deepest and dirtiest of men's thoughts. And yet here they were, right in front of his eyes, so close that he could almost reach out and touch them.
He could already feel the blood rushing to his cock at record speed, the sight of her tits filling his mind with thoughts of pleasure and sin. It was all he could do to stop himself from standing up, push his books to the side and bend her over the table.
But he also knew that he couldn't let her win. He knew that if he gave in too quickly, she would only use it against him later, laughing at him and making fun of his desire for her. So, as much as it pained him, he kept himself under control.
But as he continued to stare at her, he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like, to touch her tits, to feel the soft flesh of her breasts in his hands, to feel her nipples harden even further under his touch. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to press his lips against her chest, to feel her pulse against his mouth, to taste her skin, to run his tongue over her nipple, to hear her moan his name in pleasure from his touch.
Soon, he told himself. Soon, I will have her screaming my name at the top of her lungs.
"Have you had enough, pervert?" Daphne asked, her voice filled with a sense of triumph. She had clearly been watching Harry, and she seemed to have enjoyed it, the sight of his excitement clearly washing away her initial embarrassment. She had always loved the way she could make men swoon over her, and while she had never had to bare her tits like this to get what she wanted, she seemed to enjoy the feeling of power it gave her.
But she was in for a rude awakening, Harry thought. He was going to show her just what a real man could do, and her tits were just the beginning.
"Almost," Harry replied, his cock throbbing against his trousers. "I want to see them bounce."
Daphne looked at him, clearly confused. "Bounce?"
"Jump up and down a little," Harry explained, his eyes locked onto her chest. "I want to see your heavenly tits dance for me."
"You are a pervert," Daphne said, shaking her head in disbelief. She let go of her blouse then, the fabric falling down, covering her tits once again. But Harry's eyes could still see the faint outline of her perky nipples through the fabric, the sight of them burned into his retinas until the end of time.
That had to have been fifteen seconds at least, Harry thought gleefully.
But now that the fun was over, it was time to deliver on his deal with Professor Flitwick.
"Come on, sit down," Harry said, patting the chair next to him. "I better teach you the basics in case Flitwick has any questions for you."
"What was the point of me even showing you my tits if I'm still going to have to learn something??" Daphne replied, her voice filled with disbelief. But despite her words, she was already sitting down.
"Because I'm not going to let you get in trouble for this," Harry said, his voice stern. "I could get in trouble too if you're caught."
"Fine, fine!" Daphne said, huffing. "But this is the last time I'm doing something this stupid."
Harry laughed. "Sure it is." But he wasn't listening to her. He was too busy looking at her. Even the way she sat was a sight to behold, her ass perched on the very edge of the chair, her legs crossed, her mini skirt riding up, giving him a perfect view of her thigh.
He would have loved to just spend all night staring at her, but he had work to do.
"Now, let's get started," Harry said, before launching into a lecture on the basics of Chronokinetic Conjuring. He began to explain the intricacies of the subject, the complexities of the magic, the beauty of the spells, but making sure to never stray too far from Daphne's level. He spoke slowly and carefully, making sure to explain every single little detail. He even made sure to include examples, explaining how the spells could be used to great effect in real world situations.
And the best part, was that Daphne actually seemed to be listening to him. She didn't interrupt him, she didn't roll her eyes, she didn't throw any of the insults she usually did. She was actually engaged, actually interested, actually paying attention to what he had to say.
But eventually, after about five minutes of her actually listening to him, she snapped back to her usual self.
"Fine, that's enough," she said, her voice filled with its usual arrogance. "I don't need to know anything else. Flitwick won't have any questions for me, and if he does, I'll just bat my eyelashes at him and he'll forget he even had any questions in the first place."
Harry couldn't help but laugh at that. "Suit yourself," he said, shaking his head. It seemed that Daphne was only going to listen to him for so long before she went back to being the woman he knew. But at least it was a start.
"Goodbye, pervert," Daphne said, before standing up and strutting away.
Harry watched her go, his eyes glued to her swaying ass, his mind already imagining what it would feel like to spank her. She had such an arrogant attitude, that he knew she would try her best to get out of the hard work he had to do.
And that was okay. Because he had a feeling that he was going to be seeing a lot more of her tits before the year was out.
"Goodbye, Daphne," Harry said, a grin on his face, a hint of excitement in his voice. "See you Friday."
The next chapter of 'The MILFs of Wizarding Britain' should be out in one week!
Comments
Elias
It’s probably good Patreon at some kind of issue with it
GarrukeWilde
i cant see chapter 2 or 3 of the Milfs of Wizarding Britain
Elias
I think it might be time to start doing a different upload method like PDF epub etc Due to upload difficult difficulties with some of your stories
jp9901
And this the beginning of the end!
