The Seduction

Lucky is the only one of thesaracaracters that is ours. J.K. Rollins would not do this to these sweet people.

Thinking about it.


Lucky sat in front of her mirror, in her dressing room. As she rubbed hand lotion into her fingers, all she could do was think about what her husband of five years had asked for her to do.

Harry Potter, the man who had vanquished Voldemort, had a possessive streak a mile and a half wide. It had started when they had first started dating, almost ten years ago, and had continued through the years, even through the three years of their only break up. He had been jealous of almost any man she had come into contact, especially Bill Weasley, whom she had almost married.

She guessed it came from his growing up in the Dursley’s home, without anything that really belonged to him. It had made him cling to his toys. He still had those knights he had found in a playground when he was nine. They were sitting on the mantle, right next to the clock that the Minister of Magic had given them as a wedding gift.

She wondered about his request then. Had he grown tired with her? Five years was a long time for any man to have the same partner. Lucky loved her husband with every cell of her being, but she was still realistic. Men were rarely faithful for more then three years. Perhaps he had alreadtraytrayed his vows, and he was trying to relieve his guilt by making her the villain, by asking her to have an affair?

That didn’t sound like Harry.

He had always been straight forward with her, asking for her to do things that he had never tried. His little fantasies had grown kinkier and kinkier as time went on.

It had started innocent enough. ‘Let me pretend that I bought you at a slave auction, and you are here to satisfy my every whim.’ He had asked. And she had. Or, ‘show me how you touched yourself before we met.’ So she did. ‘Pretend you are a stripper, and dance for me.’ So she had taken off her clothes to a heavy metal song.

Then came the notes. ‘Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at eight. Dress scantily, and put glamour on your hair.’ He had wanted the experience of picking up a whore. So she became his whore. Underneath the watchful gaze of Tom, she had sat and drank, a key to a room up the stairs burning in her purse. She still had the pouch of Galleons he had paid her.

‘Put on this blindfold. I’m going to tie you to the bed.’ And she had, despite the feelings of lost control when he had taken her.

‘You’re a professor, punishing me for making a mistake on my essay. Punish me.’ So she made him scrub the floor of her potions lab, on his hands and knees, while she studied papers, dressed in a teacher’s robe and a garter belt. He had made his way, until she had ordered ho sto strip, then she bent him over her work table and spanked him, until he came. Then she had made him clean up his own mess, before he ate her out, bringing her to a climax so loud, the house elves had heard it.

In a million tiny ways, he had made her crave him like a drug. Until she couldn’t even imagine her life without him. So much so, that with him going off on raids, and stake outs, she began to need him with every fiber of her body.

But how could he expect her to accept a pale substitute? Another man? One she knew barely anything about? He wanted her to accept another man in her body, a body she had given him, so that she could be fulfilled while he was away?

Part of her felt betrayed. And she fought to hold onto that part. But the other part, the more sinful part, grew excited at the prospect.


Anther man, one she could train to her own specifics. One at her beck and call. No strings, no emotional attachments. A new body to learn, to savor.

Suddenly the prospect didn’t seem so bad.

So what if it wasn’t normal. Nothing in their marriage was. Harry had made that perfectly clear. This w mar marriage of love, overshadowed by the lust that had brought them together, long ago in the halls of Hogwarts.

Was what he was asking too much?

He had, with a willing mind, fulfilled the fantasies she had brought to the marriage bed. He had donned glamour many times, to seduce her under the face of her own desires. Sean Connery (Lucky, he’s old enough to be your grandfather), Obi-Wan Kenobi, episode one, of course (how am I supposed to hold the lightsabre?), David Boreanaze (a vampire, love? Is there something you aren’t telling me?), Frodo (Huge hairy feet. That is it. You are not allowed to watch Lord of the Rings again), Aragon, and even Legolas (A Blonde elf. There is something you are definitely not telling me about.) had all come to her bed wearing her husband’s smile.

Sex in public, something he had balked at for a long time, had always been one of her biggest fantasies. LA, London, Paris, Rome, Tokyo, all had seen Harry Potter’s ass as he ravished his wife.

She still had the school girl’s outfit in her closet, a fantasy they both had had. The halls of Hogwarts had been visited during the summer for that one.

The helpless muggle at the hands of a Deatheater, who takes her instead of kills her. He had borrowed one of the confiscated outfits from the Head Auror, telling him he was writing a paper on the Deatheaters, which he had, but not before he donned it and chased her through the halls of Hope’s Return, the name she had given their house.

He had even taken her on his Firebolt, flying high above the village, under the invisibility cloak, of course. It had been a tight fit, in more ways then one.

She reached down and opened the bottom drawer of her vanity. Pulling out the cigar box, she opened it, removing the string of pearls the size of her thumb nail, and the photos under it. Harry had even dressed up for her. Dr. Frankenfurter. A little mouse, and fishnets, and he beat the hell out of Tim Curry. He could even sing ‘Sweet Transvestite’ without stumbling. With the proper make up and outfit, Harry could possible make a better looking woman than her.

Harry had even set up a camcorder, bought at a muggle department store in London, and taped them having sex, just so they could watch it again, later. She had that video tape in the closet somewhere, probably with the school girl’s uniform.

So was what he was asking her too much?

Not if it made him happy.

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A/N
Oh goodie! Our first reviews.

Amanda: Thank you. We both love Monty Python, so having you quote it at us is great. Here you go.

Cold Comfort: Thank you. Amber dropped the ball on the spelling. She is currently sitting in a
corner with a Dictionary. Note the title has been fixed. And yes there is going to be a fiction here.

Buttercup: Ok fixed the format and renamed the first part. Glad to hear that you think the story is interesting. Just wait until the seduction begins.