July 2025 Exclusive Poll Winner - Helping Hands - Harry/Hermione/Daphne

Quidditch was a foolish passion. Daphne Greengrass never dissuaded herself of that notion, regardless of how much her housemates tried to co

AN: Hogwarts begins at eighteen. All characters are over the age of eighteen at the time of this story.

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Quidditch was a foolish passion. Daphne Greengrass never dissuaded herself of that notion, regardless of how much her housemates tried to convince her of the many virtues that quidditch offered. Had it been something more exciting like duelling, perhaps Daphne would’ve been interested. As it stood, most quidditch matches took far too much time and suffered from the painful reality that the golden snitch was by far the most valuable commodity in the game, thereby making the Seeker the most important player by far. It left matches less interesting when she realised that it almost ultimately came down to the Seeker, thus she decided to ignore the game entirely.

Her studies led her to focus upon different things entirely. Magic was full of wondrous potentials. Enchantments and charms were interesting in their own right, but they were often placed upon things that later needed to be activated by witches or wizards. What Daphne wanted was to perform magic and see direct or short-term results. Without that sort of satisfaction, she feared that she’d never truly understand the importance of the magic that she practiced.

The Healer-Training School interested her immensely. Beyond being able to see the effects of her works immediately when she resolved simple issues like deep cuts or broken bones, Daphne quickly learnt that she’d be able to deal with more difficult issues such as curses left behind by ancient traps within old ruins if she was talented enough to be seen as a curative measure for them. It brought about various branches of magic that all appealed to her and gave her the hope that she could one day be one of the most important witches in existence.

Many chose to see healing as a subservient or inherently feminine art, but Daphne recognised that all those that believed that were fools. True followers of this path were just as magnificent and powerful as those who chose to spend their days travelling the duelling circuit across Europe and beyond. One day, she sincerely believed that she would become the head of St Mungo’s. But until then, she spent her time studying and training within the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Another match was on, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Daphne felt minimal support for the fellow members of her house. Given how discriminatory most of them were against muggle-born students and the like, Daphne had long-since decided that their opinions were nearly worthless. She was a woman of nineteen after all, and any petty inter-house conflicts were beyond her interest.

Still, she watched the match from the windows of the hospital wing, waiting upon any patients that may need acceptance. The match wasn’t an official one. With the Tri-Wizard Tournament taking the main stage at Hogwarts, Daphne understood that all of these games were friendlies and nothing more. Still, that didn’t stop any inter-house conflicts from boiling over.

There was a brief fight between Malfoy and several of the Gryffindor members down on the pitch. The remainder of the Slytherin team quickly supported Malfoy, and the Weasley twins met them in earnest.

Daphne sighed as the two sides battled physically. The fight was over in seconds before each team stepped aside, and she assumed that all would be peaceful again.

She was wrong.

As Daphne scanned those who were leaving the encounter, she witnessed Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley trailing behind the Gryffindor team. She was far enough away that she had no hope of making out the words that either of them said, but she easily identified the furious behaviour shown through Ron’s actions. He looked like he was ranting and raving to Hermione as he stormed up to the castle behind her, and that gave Daphne a frown on her face.

The past three years had shown the Golden Trio to be exactly that: a golden trio. They never fought or bickered or reduced each other through any fights—at least none publicly seen. It was odd to see Ron reacting in that way.

Daphne endeavoured to keep a keen eye on a loose cannon like him, just as she did with several other Gryffindors, Slytherins, and a couple of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. She didn’t want to see any of her housemates getting hurt… and then there was always the possibility that he would turn on one of his own.

If he dared to hurt Potter, the one fanciable wizard in this entire school, then there would be hell to pay.

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“Trust me, I’m fine,” Harry told his best friend bluntly.

“No, you’re not,” Hermione insisted fiercely as she slammed her fist against his bed. “If Ron hadn’t…”

That was lingering on Harry’s mind too. He honestly didn’t know what’d gotten into Ron’s head when he suddenly attacked Harry just after the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry could understand him being upset at being locked away underwater, but Dumbledore had told Harry that Ron had volunteered to be his hostage for the task. The only other thing it could be was the kiss that Fleur gave him.

Although she was a Veela, the kiss that Fleur had given him had been chaste… the kind that you gave a sibling, or, in Fleur’s case, out of intense gratitude. It wasn’t romantic in the slightest, and yet it seemed that Ron had taken it as such.

Between Ron freaking out over Harry being selected as a Champion—something that he definitely didn’t want given the fact that he’d never entered his name into the draw—and this, Harry couldn’t see Ron as anything more than a jealous prat.

It was a shame to lose a friendship over this, but Harry had been mourning his lost friendship from the moment that Ron first turned his back upon him.

“It’s only a few missing bones,” Harry replied, trying to reassure Hermione.

“I know, but you’ll be stuck on Skelegrow, and you know how much of a toll it can take on a person with each consecutive use,” Hermione sighed.

Harry blinked. “Actually, I don’t,” he said slowly, a hint of anxiety creeping into his chest. “I’ve only had it the one time a couple of years ago. Can it really be that bad—”

“Yes it can!” Hermione exclaimed. “Skelegrow isn’t perfect; master potion makers have been searching for a replacement for decades without luck. Each consecutive use takes longer for your bones to regrow, and then comes the trouble with your magic.”

“My magic?” Harry repeated in surprise.

“It’ll begin to collect within your body, filling your magical core up until there’s nowhere left for it to go. And then…”

She couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence. Harry feared the worst.

“And then what?” He asked instantly.

A blush spread across Hermione’s cheeks. “It… it makes you feel more… virile.”

“Vir… I don’t know what that word means,” Harry admitted.

Hermione threw her head back in exasperation and seemed to be looking everywhere but at his face. “It… I mean, you’ll begin to feel more… full and… ready to…”

“Am I going to die?” Harry asked nervously. “Or will my magic go away or—”

“No!” Hermione shouted, disabusing him of that notion instantly. “You’ll just need to… relieve yourself more often.”

Harry glanced across the Hospital Wing to the small wooden door on the far wall. “At least the bathroom isn’t far,” he said. “I can—”

“Not like that,” Hermione interrupted him.

Her cheeks were like crimson now, and it took Harry several seconds before he clued into what she actually meant.

“Oh,” he said dumbly. “But my arms are…”

“That’s what the healers are for,” Hermione muttered, still unable to look at him. “They’ll help with that.”

Harry shivered uncomfortably. He couldn’t even begin to imagine Madam Pomfrey coming to take care of him. For one, she was nearly as old as Professor McGonagall, and she didn’t seem to be the type to be especially careful around sensitive bits of his body given her past history dealing with his injuries.

“For fuck’s sake, Ron,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Indeed,” Hermione replied sympathetically. “From what I’ve read, it’ll take three to four weeks for the bones in your arms to regrow.”

“Three to four weeks!” Harry exclaimed. “But I can’t wait that long! I mean… it’ll be difficult to….”

Hermione nodded her head as she clasped her hands together in her lap. “I know. But you’ll just have to soldier on. Madam Pomfrey said that it’s likely to start in the next week or so. If you don’t take the Skelegrow, you’ll be stuck dealing with the old ritualistic method of regrowing bones that takes over a year to happen and requires sacrificing an entire herd of goats.”

“That might honestly be the preferential option,” Harry replied candidly.

Hermione stood up from her chair abruptly. “I know that this isn’t ideal, but we’ll find some way to make this work. Give me time to try researching in the library. Maybe I can come up with something to help out.”

Harry smiled sincerely at her. “You know that you’re the best, right?” 

“I know,” Hermione replied with a small smile of her own. “Just try not to lose all hope yet, yeah?”

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The following days were uncomfortable to say the least. Hermione kept visiting him and offering updates on her research. It wasn’t going well. Apparently, all of the attempts that potion makers had made to improve the Skelegrow potion were reasonably sound in their magical logic; it may simply be that there was some undiscovered magical plant or technique that was required to do what they all wished to do, but that would take time and resources to uncover.

Hermione visited him daily, always checking up on him. Ron had evidently chosen to take up with Seamus and Dean, trying to turn them against Harry. Hermione said that he wasn’t exactly the most convincing man, but Harry wouldn’t truly know until he was out of the Hospital Wing.

Fleur even visited and apologised for her part in what’d affected Harry. He’d told her not to worry about it and that he’d deal with Ron, which resulted in another kiss upon his lips. She tasted nice, but Harry never truly saw her as a partner for him.

When no one else was around, Harry was maintained by Madam Pomfrey and Daphne Greengrass. The elder had told him that Daphne, who’d recently completed a certificate in healer training, was going to take over the role as his primary caregiver. Madam Pomfrey would remain close by for any necessary interventions, but she wanted her pupil to take the lead and learn how to manage a patient herself.

Slytherin had never been Harry’s favourite house. Between Malfoy’s actions and those that followed him, Harry distrusted the lot. Daphne had proven to be better than her peers, however, once she’d taken care of a minor magical infection that’d filled the space where his bones had been. In removing it, Harry had grown to trust her that little bit more, and she’d become a touch more comfortable with him too.

It always struck him as surprising that Daphne and Hermione seemed to butt heads whenever they encountered each other when they met. From his understanding, he thought that the two of them shared several classes together. From her offhanded comments, Harry knew that Daphne was involved in multiple advanced classes, just like Hermione was. He’d thought that they’d been acquaintances, if not friends. 

Yet, whenever Hermione visited, the two of them seemed frosty with one another. Daphne tended to his care with a frigid and stern demeanour whenever Hermione was around, but she softened up a bit whenever she wasn’t. They occasionally struck up conversations in those moments, but they rarely lasted for long. Daphne was entirely focused on her education and theoretical discussions while Harry lived and breathed the physical realities of magic. It made for interesting conversations that made him reconsider his previous positions, but his thoughts were constantly fleeting as his body tried to recover with the aid of the potions being fed to him.

On one strange day, he awoke to bickering between his best friend and his nurse.

“He needs more time to rest,” Daphne said, her voice sounding insistent.

“Have you even looked at him these past days?” Hemrione snapped. “Just look at his bedsheets! He needs some release or else his magic will boil over and kill him!”

“He can wait for another week for his arms to heal,” Daphne retorted. “Then he’ll be able to take care of himself.”

“That might be too long for him to wait,” Hermione hissed angrily. As Harry’s eyes blinked open, he saw his best friend standing up in Daphne’s face. They were barely inches away from each other, and each looked ready to kill each other. Harry swiftly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep in order to ignore the inevitable fallout.

“I don’t care if it’s too long to wait,” Daphne replied in a hushed whisper. “I’m not going to be the one to make him cum with you just standing here watching me.”

Wait! Harry’s mind went alight with activity as he realised what Daphne had said. She was going to make him cum?

Suddenly, his cock pulsed with activity. He hadn’t even realised that he was already hard as a rock. Had he had some erotic dream or was this the result of something else? He supposed it didn’t really matter in the end. All that he wanted was for it to go away.

But as he continued to overhear Daphne and Hermione’s conversation, he realised that it wasn’t going to end simply.

“If he stays hard like that for too long, his magic will end up boiling over,” Hermione told Daphne. “He’ll turn into a Squib! We need to do something!”

“Then by all means, Granger,” Daphne replied sharply. “Jerk your best friend off for all I care. I’ll keep Madam Pomfrey appraised of his current state. If she tells me to do something, I’ll do it. Anything beyond that is up to you.”

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh as Daphne made her way to Madam Pomfrey’s office. The door closed loudly behind her, and Hermione quickly made her way up to Harry’s side.

“Damn it,” Hermione sighed. “I didn’t want to do this.”

Harry cringed inwardly. He felt embarrassed that he was so turned on in this moment, but his magic wouldn’t let him be anything but. However, as soon as Hermione spoke again, his attitude shifted drastically.

“If Harry knew just how much I was into him,” Hermione muttered under her breath. “It feels so wrong doing this without telling him how I feel.”

His eyes nearly shot open right then. Hermione was into him!? It was something beyond his wildest dreams! He’d fantasised about Hermione a few times, just as he was sure as his dormmates had, but he’d never truly imagined that she’d felt the same way about him.

“I can’t let this go on,” Hermione continued. “I just… how long will this last? Do I need to tell him how I really feel? What if he doesn’t like me?”

Of course he liked her! Hermione was a beautiful witch beyond reproach! It wasn’t just her mind that attracted him to her; she had the most luscious brown hair and perky breasts that almost always made him sneak a peek down her blouses. He’d held himself back from ever approaching her romantically because he’d thought that she had feelings towards Ron instead of him, but evidently that wasn’t the case.

Harry had barely begun to open his eyes to confess his mutual attraction to Hermione when the doors to the Hospital Wing opened once more.

As Hermione’s head snapped around, Harry opened his eyes just slightly to witness Daphne striding in with an annoyed expression on her lips. Evidently, her chat with Madam Pomfrey hadn’t quite gone the way she’d hoped.

“Are you going to do it then?” Daphne asked Hermione pointedly. When no immediate response came, Daphne sighed in frustration. “You need to leave.”

Like hell I will,” Hermione retorted sharply. “I won’t leave Harry alone until he’s better.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself for dealing with his issue,” Daphne told her bluntly. She pulled on a pair of muggle rubber gloves onto each of her hands as Hermione looked on in shock. “Madam Pomfrey says that it’s better to relieve him now rather than to wait for the last minute. So unless you’re volunteering to do this yourself, you have to leave. I’m not going to let you stick around and watch as I work.”

Harry stayed perfectly still and silent as he waited for Hermione’s response.

“Fine,” she finally bit out. “Give me a pair of gloves.”

“These are the only ones we have I’m afraid,” Daphne replied haughtily. “You’ll have to make do without.”

“Why don’t you just give me yours?” 

“Because if I need to step in because you’re doing an inadequate job, I’m not touching his thing with my bare skin,” Daphne snapped. “Now quit wasting time. You’re the one who’s on my case about helping out your best friend. Get to it.”

Hermione’s hands found his bedsheets but hesitated. Knowing just how close she was to him, Harry’s cock leapt in excitement, surprising Hermione.

“Bloody hell,” Daphne huffed as she grabbed the bedsheets and ripped them aside, revealing Harry in his thin hospital robes. His erect cock was already poking out through the gap in the front of the robes. They were designed to be easy to get on and off for any patient who needed assistance with something like that, but they were also notorious for opening up and revealing a bit too much skin if you weren’t careful. 

For a moment, there was nothing but silence in the room. Harry hoped that he hadn’t given away that he was actually awake, but he clearly didn’t need to worry about that when he heard Hermione speak up.

“It’s so big,” she said quietly.

“Obviously,” Daphne replied, rolling her eyes. “You saw the outline of it.”

“Yeah, but…” Hermione trailed off, her fingers reaching out slowly.

“Just wank him off already,” Daphne barked. Hermione’s hand pulled back in surprise at Daphne’s shout. “Sod it.”

The warm, gloved hand of Daphne Greengrass wrapped around Harry’s cock. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop a moan from escaping past his lips. She wasn’t particularly gentle as she started stroking him. Her movements were awkward and clearly unpractised, but Harry couldn’t care in the slightest. He’d been trapped in here for days without release, and as his magic built up inside of him, he’d only grown more and more horny. 

His cock wouldn’t stop twitching in Daphne’s hand as she continued to pump her fist, but the rubber of her glove was starting to get uncomfortable. It stung against his dry skin.

“You need some lubricant,” Hermione told Daphne, as though she was reading Harry’s mind.

Daphne huffed. “Then conjure some. Otherwise, quit telling me what to do. I’m the healer-in-training here, not you.”

“That doesn’t excuse you doing a poor job,” Hermione argued back.

There was a slight shuffling sound as Hermione drew her wand. Then, suddenly, a wave of coldness covered every inch of his cock. Harry couldn’t help himself but to suck in a breath at the sudden shift in sensation.

Suddenly, the stroking stopped, and Harry felt Hermione and Daphne’s eyes on him. He resolutely kept his eyes shut though, doing his best to remain still.

“Is he…” Hermione began slowly.

“Awake?” Daphne snorted. “If he was, I’m sure that we would’ve noticed it by now. It was probably just an involuntary reaction to your spell. People can make noises in their sleep, you know.”

“I know!” Hermione retorted fiercely. “I just… wondered…”

“Stop that,” Daphne said coldly as she returned to stroking Harry’s cock. With the added lubricant, her fist glided much more smoothly up and down his shaft. It felt so damned good that Harry didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep up with this fiction, but he endeavoured to last as long as possible. As awkward as her movements were at the start, Daphne was clearly a fast learner. She found a smooth rhythm to stroke him, and her tight grip grew a bit more relaxed as she went on. “I get that you want to confess to your would-be boyfriend how much you want to shag his brains out, but you aren’t going to have much luck with that if you can’t even stroke his cock.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione said, sounding affronted.

“I mean, look at me,” Daphne replied, gesturing to her hand that twisted slightly back and forth as she pumped Harry’s cock. “I’m not scared to do this to him. Any random witch will come up and have a better shot at convincing him to be with them rather than you if you aren’t able to do the basics of pleasing him.”

“I can please him!” Hermione insisted.

Daphne’s hand left Harry’s cock. “Go on and show me then. Wank him off until he cums and maybe I’ll believe you.”

The goading finally worked because Hermione’s warm hands both wrapped around his shaft. Feeling his best friend’s touch made his cock leap in excitement again.

“Go on then,” Daphne encouraged her. “Just start stroking him. It won’t bite.”

“Might take my eye out if I’m not careful though,” Hermione muttered under her breath, but she did as Daphne said. Her hands started moving together, pumping his shaft slowly, like she was afraid of hurting him. But it was still more than enough to excite Harry.

“You know, you’re not the only witch who has the hots for Potter,” Daphne said as she stood up from her seat. Hermione made some type of sound of acknowledgement, but her real focus was still on pleasuring Harry. “I wonder who he’d choose between us.”

Hermione’s head snapped up sharply. “You? Really?”

Daphne shrugged. “He’s handsome and not dim like most of the other men here. Besides, you’ve handled his cock. I certainly won’t be disappointed in the bedroom.”

“That’s vain.”

“That’s reality. I don’t want to be married off to some stuffy pure-blooded ponce who doesn’t even have anything the size of his thumb between his legs,” Daphne snorted. “And it’s not like Harry could find any better witches than me.”

“I’d beg to differ,” Hermione argued.

A predatory smile lit up Daphne’s face. “Let’s ask him then. Harry, who would you rather be with? Me or Hermione?”

Hermione’s hands froze on his cock, and Harry realised that the game was up. He cracked open his eyes to find both witches staring at him.

“I… err…” he began awkwardly.

“How long have you been awake for?” Hermione hissed at him. “You let me—”

“Come off it, Granger,” Daphne rolled her eyes. “You were looking for any excuse to get Potter off. Just admit that you like him and his marvellous cock and get on with it. I’m not going to hold back and dance around the subject.”

Before he realised what was happening, Daphne had closed the gap between them and kissed him soundly on the lips. Her strawberry-flavoured lip gloss danced on his tongue, and the feeling of her huge, perky breasts squishing up against his chest made him moan into her mouth.

Daphne pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk. “If you stop wanking him, I’ll take over for you,” she told Hermione.

Defiantly, Hermione resumed stroking Harry’s cock. Her fists pumped his shaft furiously as she fought to make him cum before Daphne could get a chance to intervene. Her motions felt heavenly, and now that he didn’t have to hold back, Harry let out a loud groan. 

“I bet her hands feel wonderful wrapped around your cock,” Daphne murmured sultrily into his ear as she started fiddling with her robes. “They look so tiny in comparison. Tell us, does she feel good?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed out the response before he could stop himself. She really did feel incredible, and Hermione had such an enthusiasm about her now that he knew he wasn’t going to last long. A deep blush set across her face at his words.

Daphne suddenly pulled her robes open and revealed her luscious breasts sitting high on her chest. She leaned in close to his face and smirked at him. “She’s going to make you cum all over the place today, but you’ll be all mine later tonight when I milk you dry again. Until then, I’m going to give you a little taste of what you have to look forward to.”

As Harry opened his mouth to respond, Daphne leaned in and put her milky-white breasts in his face. Her cute pink nipple popped in right past his lips, and Harry’s body acted on instinct as he began to suckle at her. His tongue flicked her nipple back and forth as he lost himself to his lust. His cock kept throbbing like crazy, begging for a release in Hermione’s warm hands.

“I never knew you were such a slut, Greengrass,” Hermione bit out sharply. 

“I want a man to know just how much I want him,” Daphne replied as a sweet moan escaped past her lips. She ran her hair through Harry’s head and encouraged him to switch to her other breast for a bit. “When I ride his cock later tonight, my tits will be all over his face, and he can suck on them as much as he wants.”

Her words made Harry’s hips jerk up in excitement. He could practically imagine Hermione’s hands as being Daphne’s silken pussy. He was still reeling from the knowledge that his best friend and Daphne Greengrass of all people both fancied him like this, and although he wasn’t in any right state of mind to be able to decide between the two of them just yet, Daphne certainly was making a tempting offer. 

“Like hell you will,” Hermione snapped. “I’ll fuck Harry before you do.”

“You can certainly try,” Daphne replied. “But maybe we should leave this up to Harry, and I have a perfect way to help him decide.”

Harry reluctantly released Daphne’s nipple from his mouth when she pulled back from him. She gave him a wink as she reached behind his back and helped him to sit up.

“Up on your feet,” Daphne told him. 

The wet sounds of Hermione stroking Harry’s cock didn’t stop as he slowly slid out of bed and got to his feet. Hermione moved with him, and for the first time that day, they stood face to face with one another. Lust and love alike were both evident across her face as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“On your knees,” Daphne said to Hermione as she came around the bed and got down on her knees beside her.

Hermione did so quickly, realising what Daphne had planned. 

Daphne’s hands joined Hermione’s around Harry’s cock, and the two witches stroked him off together in perfect unison. 

“Whoever’s face he decides to cum on gets to fuck him first,” Daphne said. Harry groaned in delight at the mental image of seeing either woman’s face plastered with his cum. “Harry, you need to think about who you want to fuck more, and trust me, you know it’s me.”

“No, it’s me!” Hermione shouted, leaning in closer to Harry’s cock. “Your hands are going to be out of commission for a while still. Would you rather some slag like Greengrass here take care of you or your best friend? Don’t tell me that you haven’t fantasised about me when you’ve wanked off before bed.”

Harry’s cheeks went beet red in admission.

“It’s up to Harry now,” Daphne said. “As soon as you’re about to cum, let us know and we’ll let go of you. Then, you just point your giant cock at one of our faces and let loose.”

Both women looked at him with determination and confidence as they pumped his cock faster and faster. It was really hard for him to not cum already, but he realised that he had an important decision ahead.

He could be with Hermione, a woman he’d fancied secretly for years now, or he could be with Daphne, one of the most desirable witches he’d ever seen. Admittedly, he didn’t know much about Daphne besides the fact that she was beautiful, highly intelligent, and uninterested in most of the silly games the cruel pure-bloods played. Then again, his cock was screaming at him that that didn’t really matter and that he should just shag her rotten, or better yet shag both of them.

Harry didn’t know who to choose, and his orgasm was approaching rapidly. “I’m about to cum!” He warned them.

Their hands left him then, but Daphne whipped out her wand and cast a spell. It felt like an invisible hand grabbed his cock and was stroking it now.

“Just turn your hips and cum on whoever you want,” Daphne said as she tried to centre herself.

“Oh no you don’t,” Hermione said as she pushed back against Daphne, trying to take centre stage herself.

The two witches’ faces were pressed right up against each other as they battled for dominance. Harry’s eyes flickered between the two of them as the invisible hand pumping his cock brought him to the breaking point. He had to choose right now!

Or did he?

In his panic, his cock was angled directly at the seam where their faces met. Countless days of stored-up cum, made only all the more substantial by his magic boiling over, shot out of his cock like water from a firehouse. His thick, creamy white seed splattered across both of their faces together. Harry closed his eyes and groaned loudly as the invisible hand helped his cock to shoot out spurt after spurt across both of their faces until he had nothing left inside of him.

When Harry’s orgasmic high began to finally fade, he opened his eyes and was stunned at the sight before him.

Both Hermione and Daphne looked like their faces had been covered in a thick layer of cream. Cum was dripping down from their brows and chins. Their hair wasn’t saved from the onslaught either; it would take a very careful wash to get all of his soon-to-be dried cum out of their hair. 

Daphne looked on the scene with frustration. “You were too backed up,” she groaned. “You got it all over both of us. Who won? Who did you choose?”

“I didn’t,” Harry admitted sheepishly. “I couldn’t decide.”

Hermione wiped away some of the cum from around her eyes and turned to face Daphne. “This isn’t over then. I’ll be back tonight after supper and we’ll settle this then.”

“If this is how backed up he is, there’s no way he’ll be able to decide,” Daphne pointed out. “He’ll keep getting cum over both of us.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to keep at it until he’s back at his normal levels so that he can decide then.”

None of them commented that there was a far easier way to deal with this: Harry could simply choose right here and now. The thought occurred to him, but he kept his mouth shut.

Two sets of helping hands were better than one after all.