The Favoured Niece

A/N Hi, readers! This is my first attempt at serious smut, and sorry for the slow start but I ensure you it will get very interesting very soon! Enjoy, read and review!


As the party raged on in her parent’s kitchen, an unimpressed fourteen year old slouched moodily on the sofa in the lounge, away from all the noise and madness that signified a typical Weasley-clan party. Her dear brother Hugo was celebrating his eleventh birthday, but Rose Weasley couldn’t bring herself to join in. It was all too juvenile, with wizard and muggle party games alike, and at fourteen, with her long, dark auburn curls, deep brown eyes, and the coltish development of her body, which had come a lot earlier than expected, Rose was certainly not a child. She knew that she was developed a lot further than any of her classmates, mentally and physically, with pert breasts and legs that stretched onto infinity. She was lanky, though it suited her, and comical like her father, and smart and beautiful like her mother, a wicked combination when it came to relations with the opposite sex. Boys her age generally flocked to her, tripping over their own feet and bumbling like baboons, but her father would never allow her to have a boyfriend. She flirted with them all, even her cousins, and knew that one could consider her a cock tease. Everyone loved her, well everyone except one person.

Aunt Ginny was the only one who could see right through her.

Ginny had always disliked her, though she did not always understand why. She was a favourite grandchild, smart, cute and funny. She supposed she got more attention than Ginny’s own daughter, Lily and was shallow, spoiled. In recent years it had only gotten worse when Rose had become all too aware of her many charms and had been flaunting them cruelly to her cousins. Perhaps Ginny thought she was interested in either James or Albus, perhaps both, and didn’t like it. The truth was that Rose had absolutely no interest in either of them, though Albus did have considerable charm. He was the spitting image of his father, the man she had been lusting after since she first understood sexual feeling and desire, so she supposed, Ginny was right to distrust her.

Harry Potter was a favoured uncle of hers, the only uncle that wasn’t blood related, and the best looking of them all. She remembered as a child, sitting in Harry’s lap, being told stories of her parents and beloved uncle, adventurous tales with dragons and three-headed dogs. She was too big for that now, of course, but she longed to sit there once again, to feel his warm breath as he spoke in her ear, to bounce on his lap and feel that poking hard thing in his trousers. She had not quite understood what that meant at the time, but now, with thoughts of his long, hard cock rocking against her she began to grow hot. He was a wizarding hero, and had beautiful eyes of emerald green. She longed to run her hands through his dark locks as he kissed her in his lap. She had never kissed a boy before, her father forbid it, which made the thought of kissing and doing other things, sexual things, with a grown man, her own uncle, delicious.

She felt, rather than saw the flush on her skin, and decided it would be prudent to get away from the gaggle of people that had gathered to sing her brother happy birthday, and made a beeline for the stairwell, blissfully aware that a pair of startling green eyes studied her every move.

Harry James Potter watched the young girl, his niece climb the stairs, unaware that as she did her short skirt rode up on her pale, smooth thighs, providing further ammunition to his lust-riddled mind. He thought of her all the time, though he knew very well that he shouldn’t, she being so young, and his niece, at that. He thought of the way she looked up at him with her big brown eyes, fluttering her eyelashes as she had greeted him and his little family at the door. Everything she did, like patting him gently on the arm when she needed something or laughing too loudly at one of his terrible jokes, gazing up at him sweetly from under thick, long lashes told him she was flirting with him. But she was an innocent, a sweet, unspoiled, precious little girl who surely had no idea of the effects of her actions had on him. She was probably naively unaware that she was doing such things, which unfortunately, made her all the more delicious.

He thought briefly of following her upstairs, but mentally slapped his own wrist he could never do such a thing! They would surely get caught, and he would be thrown into Azkaban for having sex with a minor, and that was only if he made it out of this house, surely either Ron or Ginny or both would slaughter him before it even got to court.

Even as he scolded himself, the images of her writhing beneath him, or bent over her father’s office desk as he pounded into her tiny cunt from behind assaulted his mind, and his cock sprang to life. He thought how wrong it was that he should be turned on this way and felt deeply ashamed, even as he climbed the stairs two at a time.

Should he just barge in her room and take her, whether she liked it or not? Or should he knock and engage her in conversation, and decide for himself whether her flirty looks and touches meant anything.

He decided on a bit of both, knocking on her bedroom door, and letting himself in without her permission. She wasn’t there. He felt the stirrings of disappointment, before deciding to look elsewhere. He had definitely seen her come up here, and she was surely the only one bar him not joining in the party downstairs.

He took a few steps down the hall and paused outside the closed bathroom door. That’s when he heard it. A distinct, low moan, entirely feminine. It had come from inside the far door, at the end of the hall. Ron’s study. He walked quickly but quietly towards it, eager to hear that noise once again, knowing that it had come from his sexy niece. Was she playing with herself in this room? Was she thinking of him? He heard it again, and believed that all his Christmases had come at once.

Unable to contain himself, he barged open the door, and what he saw, he knew, would be the material for his wet dreams for decades to come.


A/N Cliffie! I’ve been waiting for someone to write a Harry/Rose story forever, and so tired of waiting I thought I’d write my very own! Hope you all like it!