Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling,
Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.
This is pretty much my first foray into writing smutty content. Be nice and tell me what you
“Harry? Do you have a moment?” The voice called from outside the door.
He’d been locked in his room at Grimmauld Place for almost three weeks. Dobby, under Molly’s
orders, had been slipping food into the room every few hours, and returning to remove the nearly-full tray
after an hour or so. He’d been eating something, not enough for a growing young man, but enough to survive
..” Harry mumbled in the direction of the door.
With a click, the door unlocked, then creaked open. In the doorway stood the ever-formidable Molly
Weasley. “Up, Harry!” She commanded sharply.
“Don’t wanna.” Harry moaned.
Molly glared sharply at him. “Do you want some cheese to go with that whine, young man?” She said
archly. “Now, get up, and get in the shower. I can smell you from over here.”
“Go ‘way.” Harry slurred into his pillow, before pulling the duvet up over himself. It was a second
later when he shot out of bed, holding onto his left arse cheek, the recent recipient of a stinging hex from
“Mrs. Weasley!” Harry near-shouted. Another stinging hex hit him in the chest, directly on his nipple.
With a ‘eep’ of pain, he ran, heading straight into the bathroom.
“Get showered, dressed, and meet me in the kitchen when you’re done.” Molly ordered.
Harry, leaning against the other side of the bathroom door, tried to find an appropriate retort.
“Don’t even think of saying
, young man!” Molly commanded, correctly anticipating Harry’s
response. “You have twenty minutes. If you’re not down there, I’ll come in after you!” She span on her heel,
and marched out of the bedroom.
..” Harry muttered, before pulling off his shirt. As it passed his nose, he recoiled in disgust.
.. maybe I could use a little shower.
Twenty-five minutes later, he entered the kitchen, before slumping into a chair at the far end of the
table. Molly was puttering about the kitchen, earning a sharp glare from Harry as she passed him.
“I’m here, Mrs. Weasley.” He said sulkily.
“Good.” Molly replied, setting down a full bowl of chicken soup in front of him. “Now, eat up. I’d
like to have a chat with you.”