Harry Potter One-Shots/Series - 4

Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me. All characters are aged up and are consenting adults.

Harry Potter One-Shots/Series

Story – The Italian Stallion (Blaise/Harem)

Part 2 – Susan Bones/Hannah Abbott

The train ride back to Hogwarts had felt like a descent into a freezer. After a summer spent in the sweltering, silk-drenched heat of Andromeda Tonks’s bed, the stone walls of the castle felt particularly oppressive. Blaise Zabini sat in his usual compartment, his dark eyes fixed on the passing landscape, but his mind was miles away, envisioning the curve of a mature hip and the taste of her lips.

He was different now. He had left London as a boy with a grudge; he returned as a man who had conquered a lady of the House of Black. He moved with a predatory grace, a confidence that made even Draco Malfoy quiet his bragging when Blaise entered the room. He was larger, his muscles more defined from a summer of "exercise," and his gaze held a heavy, carnal weight that made the younger girls in the Great Hall look away with a blush and the older ones linger a second too long.

But the physical ache was real. Andromeda had been a fire that consumed him, and now, in the drafty corridors of Hogwarts, he felt the chill of her absence. He didn't just want a girl; he needed a loyal vassal. He needed the warmth he had become accustomed to—the wet, yielding heat that only a woman could provide.

He wasn't looking for a girlfriend. He was looking for a collection. He needed his harem and he knew exactly where to find the softest, most compliant flesh in the castle.

Hufflepuff.

Specifically, the two jewels of the badger’s den: Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. They were a study in contrasts, yet united by a singular, genetic trait that Blaise found irresistible-their spectacularly curvaceous figures. Susan was the "innocent" one, the niece of a high-ranking Ministry official, possessed of a quiet dignity and a chest that seemed to defy the laws of physics every time she took a deep breath. Hannah was the airhead, a bubbly blonde with pigtails and a vacant, friendly smile that suggested she was constantly hearing a very faint, very catchy tune in her head.

He set his sights on them during the first week.

***


Potions class in the dungeons was a miserable affair for most, but for Blaise, it was the perfect opportunity. The air was thick with humidity and the cloying scents of crushed herbs and simmering liquids.

Susan Bones sat at the station next to him. Her robes were buttoned to the chin, a desperate attempt to remain modest, but the way the fabric strained across her breasts told a different story. She was concentrated on dicing some roots, her face flushed from the heat of the cauldron.

Blaise moved with the silent efficiency of a shadow. He didn't ask; he simply shifted his cauldron closer to hers.

"Your cut is too thick, Susan," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant baritone that vibrated in the damp air.

Susan jumped, her knife slipping. She looked up at him, her wide, blue eyes blinking behind a stray lock of auburn hair. "Oh! Blaise. I… I was following the instructions on the board."

"The board is for those who lack intuition," he said, stepping into her personal space. He was so close he could smell her—vanilla, sweat, and a hint of lavender soap. He reached over her, his chest brushing against her shoulder, his arm a solid weight as he reached for her knife.

"Let me show you."

He didn't just take the knife. He covered her hand with his, his large, dark fingers wrapping around her small, pale ones. His skin was scorching. Susan let out a tiny, soft gasp, her breath hitching as he guided her hand in a rhythmic, slicing motion.

"See?" he whispered, his lips inches from her ear. "Precision is everything. You have to feel the resistance of the root. You have to dominate it."

Susan was trembling. He could feel it through her hand. "Yes… I see."

He didn't let go. Instead, he let his other hand wander. It was a calculated risk. He rested his palm on the small of her back, his thumb tracing the curve of her waist. Under the heavy wool of her robes, he could feel the softness of her body, the way her hips flared out.

"You're very tense, Susan," he said, his hand sliding slowly upward, his fingers grazing the side of her ribcage, perilously close to the swell of her breast. "A good potion master needs to be relaxed. Fluid."

"I’m… I’m trying," she squeaked, her face turning a deep, delicious crimson.

Blaise smiled, a slow, predatory baring of teeth. He leaned back slightly, but as he did, he made sure his thighs brushed against hers under the table. He was wearing his trousers tight this term on purpose. He shifted, adjusting himself with a blatant, heavy movement that drew her eyes downward.

Susan’s gaze dropped. There, through the dark fabric of his trousers, was the undeniable, massive ridge of his cock. It was a terrifying sight for a girl like her—thick, long, and straining against the seams.

Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open in a silent 'O'. She didn't look away. She couldn't. The sheer size of him seemed to paralyze her.

"Do you like what you see, Susan?" Blaise asked, his voice a dark caress.

She looked up, her pupils blown wide, her chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths. "I… I shouldn't… we’re in class…"

"Class is for learning," Blaise said, his hand finally reaching its destination. He cupped her breast through the robes, his thumb flicking over the nipple. He felt it harden instantly under his touch. "And I think you have a lot to learn about the Zabini family traditions."

He squeezed, his fingers digging into the soft, heavy mound. Susan let out a muffled whimper, her knees buckling. He caught her by the waist, pulling her flush against his hip so she could feel the heat of his erection through their layers of clothing.

"Tonight," he whispered. "The abandoned classroom on the third floor. Don't be late, Susan. I’d hate to have to come and find you in the Hufflepuff common room."

He released her as Professor Snape swept past, his cloak billowing like a bat’s wings. Susan collapsed back onto her stool, her hands shaking so violently she couldn't pick up her quill. She looked like a bird caught in a snare—terrified, but utterly unable to fly away. And frankly, she did not want to.

***


Seducing Hannah Abbott was a different game entirely. While Susan required a slow, heavy pressure, Hannah responded to the direct, almost playful arrogance that Blaise excelled at.

He caught her in the Herbology greenhouses later that afternoon. Professor Sprout was busy tending to some fanged geraniums in the back, leaving the students to repot Mandrakes in the humid, earthy warmth of Greenhouse Three.

Hannah was struggling with a particularly stubborn seedling, her pigtails bobbing as she yanked at the pot. Her Hufflepuff robes were open, revealing a tight yellow sweater that did nothing to hide the heavy weight of her swinging breasts.

"Need a hand, little badger?" Blaise asked, appearing behind her.

Hannah jumped, a ditzy laugh escaping her lips. "Oh! Blaise! You startled me. This one just won't budge."

Blaise stepped into her space, his chest pressing against her back. He was much taller than her, and he took advantage of the height difference to look down the collar of her sweater. From this angle, he could see the deep, creamy valley of her cleavage, the pale skin dusted with a few light freckles.

"It’s all about the grip," he said, reaching around her. He didn't grab the pot. He placed his hands over hers, his fingers interlacing with hers on the ceramic rim.

He didn't pull. Instead, he leaned down, his nose brushing against the soft hair at her temple. "You smell like roses, Hannah. Did you know that?"

Hannah giggled, her head tilting back against his shoulder. She knew exactly what he was doing. She wasn't as innocent as she looked; she had seen the way Blaise looked at girls, and she had heard the rumours about his ‘wand’. And she was a girl who liked to be led, a girl who found comfort in the shadow of a stronger will.

"You're very forward, Blaise," she chirped, though she made no move to pull away. In fact, she leaned back further, grinding her soft ass against his growing erection.

"I know what I want," Blaise murmured, his hands sliding from the pot to her waist. He squeezed the soft flesh there, his thumbs dipping into the indentation of her hips. "And right now, I want to see if you’re as soft all over as you are right here."

He slid one hand up, his palm cupping the underside of her left breast. It was heavy, a handful of warm, pillowy flesh. He squeezed it firmly, his thumb flicking over her nipple.

Hannah let out a high-pitched, airy moan, her eyes fluttering shut. "Oh... Blaise... we're in class..."

"Sprout is busy," he hissed, his voice dropping into that predatory register. "Besides, do you really want her here?" 

Hannah nodded, her head signalling her distaste at that, her pigtails swishing. 

Blaise chuckled, a dark, rich sound. He reached down and took her hand, guiding it back toward his crotch. He pressed her palm against the hard, pulsing length of his cock.

"They wouldn't know what to do with a girl like you anyway," Blaise said, his hand sliding under her skirt, his fingers tracing the lace edge of her knickers. "Come to the third floor tonight. The abandoned classroom. I have a surprise for you and Susan."

"Susan’s coming too?" Hannah clapped her hands. "Oh, how fun! A party!"

"A party," Blaise agreed, his eyes dark with intent. "Just the three of us."

***

The third-floor classroom was a graveyard of broken desks and dusty paintings, but to Blaise, it was an escape. He had arrived early, casting a powerful Colloportus on the door and a series of Muffliato charms to ensure their privacy. He sat on a heavy oak table in the centre of the room, his legs dangling, his heart thumping with a steady, anticipatory rhythm. That is when he heard the hesitant taps.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Enter,” he commanded as he let the spell off for a moment, his mind and body prepared for what was coming next.

When the door finally creaked open, Susan and Hannah slipped inside. They looked like a pair of nervous fawns, their Hufflepuff cloaks clutched tightly around them.

They walked toward him, the moonlight from the high windows casting long shadows across their curvaceous figures.

"Take off the cloaks," Blaise said, his eyes raking over them. "I want to see what I’m working with."

They shed the heavy wool, revealing their school uniforms. Susan was in her white blouse and grey skirt, her chest heaving with every nervous breath. Hannah was still in her tight yellow sweater, her pigtails slightly dishevelled.

"Come here," Blaise beckoned.

They approached the table, flanking him. Blaise reached out, grabbing Susan’s waist and pulling her between his legs. At the same time, he reached for Hannah, tucking her under his arm so her breast was pressed against his bicep.

"You both look delicious," Blaise whispered. "So soft. So perfect."

He looked at Susan, his hand sliding up to the buttons of her blouse. "You first, Susan. Let’s see those tits you’ve been hiding."

With a practiced ease, he undid the buttons. Susan didn't stop him. She stood there, her head bowed, her face flushed with a mix of shame and desire. When the last button gave way, Blaise pushed the fabric aside.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

Her breasts spilled out, massive and pale, the areolas a deep, rosy pink. They were heavy, tipped with large, erect nipples that seemed to ache for attention. Blaise let out a low whistle of appreciation. He reached out with both hands, cupping them, lifting their weight.

"Merlin, Susan," he groaned. "You’re a goddess."

He leaned forward and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Susan cried out, her hands flying to his hair, her fingers digging into his scalp as she arched her back, offering herself to him.

Hannah watched, her eyes wide, her own hand moving down to the hem of her sweater. "Me too, Blaise? Do you want to see me too?"

"In a moment, Hannah," Blaise muffled against Susan’s skin. "Patience is a virtue, even for pretty girl like you."

He moved to Susan’s other breast, biting gently at the sensitive peak, making her whimper and writhe against him. He could feel her heat, the way she was already trembling with the need for more.

Finally, he pulled back, looking at Hannah. "Your turn. Get that sweater off."

Hannah didn't need to be told twice. She pulled the yellow knit over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto a nearby desk. She, too, was braless. Her breasts were slightly smaller than Susan’s but firmer, standing proud with dark, plum-coloured nipples.

"Beautiful," Blaise said, reaching out to pull her into him, lavishing her with the same attention he showered Susan with.

He sat back on the table, his legs spread, a girl in each hand. He was in heaven. The cold of the castle was forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming, redundant warmth of their bodies.

"Now," Blaise said, his voice dropping into a low, commanding growl. "I think it’s time you saw what you’ve been waiting for. Kneel down. Both of you."

The two girls sank to their knees between his legs. Blaise reached for the fly of his trousers, the sound of the zipper loud in the silent room. He didn't wear underwear; he liked the freedom. As the fabric fell away, his cock sprang free, a massive, dark-veined pillar of flesh that seemed to vibrate with its own pulse.

Susan and Hannah both gasped. Up close, without the barrier of clothes, it was even more intimidating. It was thick—nearly the girth of a soda can—and long enough that the head brushed against Susan’s chin.

"God... it’s so big," Hannah whispered, her hand reaching out tentatively to stroke the velvet-soft head.

"It’s for you," Blaise said, his hands finding their heads, his fingers tangling in Susan’s red hair and Hannah’s pigtails. "I need you to keep me warm. I need you to show me how much you want to be Zabini’s girls."

Susan was the first to move. She leaned forward, her lips parting as she took the head into her mouth. She was inexperienced, her teeth grazing him slightly, but the sheer wetness of her mouth made Blaise hiss in pleasure.

"That’s it, Susan. Use your tongue," he coached, his hips bucking slightly.

Hannah didn't want to be left out. She leaned in from the other side, her tongue licking along the underside of his shaft, her small hands cupping his heavy, hanging balls.

Blaise closed his eyes, his head falling back. The sensation was incredible—the dual attention of two beautiful, busty girls, their mouths working in tandem to worship his length. He felt the heat rising in his gut, the same dark fire he had shared with Andromeda, but this was different. This was a conquest. This was the beginning of his reign at Hogwarts.

"More," he groaned, his hands tightening on their heads. "Take it all, Susan. Hannah, use those hands."

They obeyed with a frantic, desperate energy. Susan pushed her limits, sliding her mouth further down the shaft, her eyes watering as she gagged slightly on his thickness. Hannah moved her mouth to his balls, sucking them into her mouth one by one, her moans muffled against his thighs.

Blaise was reaching his limit. He could feel the pressure building, the white-hot Need to claim them, to fill them, to mark them as his own.

"Stop," he barked.

They pulled back, their faces flushed, their lips glistening with his pre-cum.

"I’m not finishing like this," Blaise said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I want to feel both of you. I want to be inside you."

He stood up, his massive cock swaying between his legs. He pointed to the heavy oak table. "Susan, get on your back. Hannah, get on your knees behind her."

The girls scrambled to follow his orders, their submissiveness fuelled by the raw sexual magnetism he projected. Susan lay on the table, her legs spread wide, her pale, thick thighs revealing a patch of soft red hair that was already soaking wet. Hannah knelt behind her, her breasts draping over Susan’s shoulders as she leaned forward to watch.

Blaise stepped between Susan’s legs. He reached down, his fingers finding her clitoris and rubbing it vigorously. Susan screamed, her hips bucking off the table.

"You're so wet, Susan," he mocked. "Is this what the innocent Bones girl looks like when she’s being ruined by a Slytherin?"

"Yes! Please, Blaise! Fuck me!"

He didn't wait. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and lunged forward.

The sensation was like being split in half. Susan’s eyes rolled back in her head, her breath catching in a silent scream as Blaise’s massive girth stretched her to the absolute limit. He buried himself to the hilt, his balls slamming against her cervix.

"Oh god... oh Merlin... you're so big..." she sobbed, her hands clutching at the edges of the table.

"I told you," Blaise hissed, starting to move.

He established a brutal, relentless rhythm. He was a machine, his dark skin glistening with sweat as he hammered into her. Every thrust made Susan’s heavy breasts bounce and sway, the sight of it driving him even wilder.

Hannah was right there, her face inches from theirs. She reached down, her hands squeezing Susan’s breasts, her own nipples rubbing against her friend’s shoulders.

"Look at her, Hannah," Blaise panted, his eyes fixed on Susan’s face. "See how she takes it? Do you want to be next?"

"Yes," Hannah whispered, her hand moving down to her own soaking wet opening. "I want it so bad, Blaise. Please, let me feel you too."

Blaise pulled back, nearly exiting Susan before slamming back in. The sound was a loud, wet slap that echoed in the empty classroom. Susan was incoherent now, her head thrashing from side to side as she floated toward an orgasm.

"I'm going to cum!" she shrieked.

"Do it," Blaise commanded. "Cum for me, Susan. Feel how big I get when you scream."

Susan shattered, her internal muscles clamping down on his shaft with a desperate intensity. Blaise roared, his own climax hitting him like a physical blow. He didn't pull out. He stayed buried deep inside her, his hips bucking as he poured his thick, hot seed into her, filling her to the brim.

He collapsed on top of her, his breath hot against her neck. The room was silent except for their heavy breathing and the faint sound of the wind rattling the windows.

But he wasn't done. He felt a small, soft hand on his shoulder.

"Blaise?" Hannah whispered, her voice trembling with need. "My turn?"

Blaise lifted his head, a predatory smile spreading across his face. He looked at the ditzy blonde, at her heaving breasts and her wide, wanting eyes. He was spent, but with the "warmth" of these two at his disposal, he knew he wouldn't stay down for long.

"Yes, Hannah," he murmured, sliding out of a dripping, dazed Susan. "Your turn. And believe me... I’ve got plenty left for you."

He pulled out of Susan, his eyes turning to Hannah as he flipped her over onto her hands and knees.

Blaise stood behind the blonde. He grabbed her hips, his thumbs digging into the dimples of her lower back.

"Look at her, Susan," he commanded. "Watch as a real man takes her."

He drove himself into Hannah from behind. The angle was deeper, more invasive. He was hitting her cervix with every thrust, making her eyes roll back in her head.

"Blaise! Please! I’m going to… I’m going to—"

"Go then!" he roared.

Hannah shattered. Her internal muscles clamped down on him in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses. Her orgasm was so intense she collapsed forward, her face burying itself in Susan's chest.

Blaise didn't stop. He used the friction of her climax to push himself over the edge. He delivered three more, crushing thrusts, his hips slamming against her ass with bone-deep force.

"I’m coming!" he warned and began to erupt.

He didn't stop until he was empty. The girls were a mess—covered in his sweat, his cum, and their own juices. They looked like they had been through a rather intense duel.

Blaise collapsed back onto the oak table, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked down at the two of them, huddled together on the rug.

Susan was sniffling softly, but there weren't any tears of pain; they were tears of release. Hannah was giggling, wiping a glob of cum from her cunt and licking it off her finger with a thoughtful expression.

He walked over to them and looked down. "Tomorrow. Same time. And bring a change of clothes. I plan on being even more thorough."

He didn't miss Andromeda’s warmth anymore. He had found his new girls. And as long as he had the busty, compliant Hufflepuffs at his disposal, the winter would be very, very short.

***


The following weeks were a study in systematic seduction. Blaise didn't just use them; he moulded them to become the perfect girls for him.

He found that he enjoyed the distinctions between their personalities. Susan, despite her initial shock, turned out to be a closeted masochist. She thrived under his dominance; her pale skin perpetually marked with the faint bruises of his handprints and bite marks. He would spend hours with her, stretching her, filling her, and pushing her past her limits of endurance.

Hannah was even easier. She was his plaything, a girl who lived for his approval and his touch. He would spend hours just playing with her breasts, making her recite her lessons while he sucked on her nipples with his cock sheathed inside of her.

They became a fixture in his life. He would meet them in abandoned classrooms, the Astronomy Tower, and even the Forbidden Forest. He liked the risk. He liked the idea that at any moment, a teacher or another student might walk in and see the "Heir of Zabini" being worshipped by the two most innocent girls in the school.

One evening, he had them in the Room of Requirement. He had asked the room for a "place of worship," and it had provided a lavish, Roman-style bath, filled with scented oils and surrounded by plush, silk cushions.

He sat on a raised dais, a glass of Firewhisky in his hand, watching them.

They were in the water, their bodies slick and shimmering. They were washing each other, their hands moving over each other’s breasts with a practiced, carnal familiarity that Blaise had encouraged.

"Come here," he commanded.

They climbed out of the water, dripping and beautiful. They knelt at his feet, their heads resting on his muscled thighs.

"Susan," he said. "Tell me, who do you belong to?"

Susan looked up, her eyes bright with a dark, submissive fire. "I am yours, Blaise. I am your slut. I wish to always keep you happy."

"And you, Hannah?"

Hannah beamed at him, a stray pigtail stuck to her wet cheek. "I’m your favourite blonde! And I’m Susan’s helper! And I hope you play with me more, every chance you get!"

Blaise smiled. It was perfect. He had replaced the sophisticated heat of Andromeda with the innocent, pliable warmth of the badgers. He had a harem in the heart of the castle, something no one knew about.

He reached out and pulled them toward him, his hands disappearing into their wet, heavy hair.

"Good girls," he whispered. "Now, show me how much you've learned."

As they lowered their heads to his lap, the sounds of their worship filling the silent room, Blaise Zabini finally felt at home. The war might be coming, the world might be falling apart, but in this room, under his command, the fire would never go out.

He was the master of his domain, the conqueror of the badgers, and he did not plan to stop now. Not until every girl in this castle was under the command of him and his cock.