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Harry stepped further into the damp and humid dungeon, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of dead rats. The air was thick with potions fumes, mingling with a metallic tang of blood and sweat.
"Sir," The junior Auror - Legrange's voice dinned awfully around the near empty cave, "we've rounded them all up and confiscated all the potions and ingredients."
"Alright Auror Legrange," He swept his eyes across the mess of gargling potion spill, and broken vials, "Co-op with the department of potions regulation to archive the evidences. Let Auror Rosa and her team deal with the criminals."
"Okay sir." He saluted Harry, then turned around briskly making his way to the dungeon's entrance.
Oh, how Harry would like to follow him, and get the hell out of here, but alas he was a senior Auror - specialising in crime scene analytics. He cannot leave with the rest of the team without triple checking the scene for any overlooked clues or evidences.
Harry trudge further into to belly of the dungeon, cataloguing all the evidences they could not produce to the court - due to damage or unsalvageable conditions - as he went.
When he rounded a particularly narrow corner, a wet splash echoed loudly in his ears. He could have brushed it off as a leaky faucet. He nearly did, but the very human, very breathless moan that following the splash raised a couple alarm bells inside his head.
Maybe he should have retained a couple Aurors for backup.
The moan could very well belong to a vulnerable hostage - best case scenario for him or it could belong to a native dweller of this cave, woken up by the ruckus of the ring busting.
Knowing his luck, the chances of it being the latter is strikingly high.
Against his better judgement, Harry followed the drip... drip... drip... echoes of the water. He came to a halt in front of a rusty iron door latched and locked with bulky chains.
A quick Alohamora was enough to untangle that poor excuse of a protection.
Whatever was down there must be important to the dealers, but not enough to warrant ruinic locks or heave handed charms. Then again, not everyone had to go out of their way to learn a couple heavy handed locking spells, not the way Harry had to.
The splatter became more defined the deeper he walked, his wandless lumos lighting up the steep mossy steps.
There was a rhythm, he observed, a pattern. Splat... splat... whine. Splat... splat... moan.
Maybe it's blood. Those bastards must have roughed up some poor sod and threw them into the dungeon.
Harry descended the final step. The narrow halfway expanded into a tiny room where a person was sitting, hunched over themself. His boots squelched through the blood, alerting the person to his presence.
Only, upon closer inspection Harry could see that whatever he stepped on was not blood. Unless blood was translucent, bluish-white, and had a sweet undertone to it, Harry was confident it was not blood.
His eyes tracked the trail of not-blood, but paused when the milky white substance camouflaged into the milky white skin of the hostage.
It took his an embarrassingly long time to realise that the hostage was naked and panicked grey eyes - peeking through blonde hair - were locked on him.
White skin. Grey eyes. Blonde hair. His brain stuttered to a stop.
It can't be. It just can't.
He had been searching for him for seven years.
He had joined the Aurors and climbed up the ranks just for him. To find him, to bring him home. Hold him between his arms and never let go.
How? What...
Those fucking dealers, they were so fucking dead.
"Draco," he whispered, dropping to his knees. He did not care about the not-blood - milk, it was fucking milk - drenching his uniform pants.
Dracosmilkdracosmilkdracosmilk...dracodracodracodraco
The clouds in Draco's eyes dissipated, becoming bright and alive. His mouth tightened, like he was concentrating really hard to fight the fog trying to pull him under.
"Harry." He gasped, reaching out to Harry with both arms, scared and relieved in a single breath.
Harry wasted no time, scooping him up in his arms. He tucked Draco's head under his chin, arms circling his unfamiliar wide hips.
Child bearing hips.
He pressed his lips to his temples, breathing him in - Warm milk and honey. Harry whimpered, allowing the howl of grief and relief to escape his throat.
"Draco, baby" He babbled, "You are safe. I got you, I got you. I am taking us home."
Draco cried, holding on to him for dear life. Harry's name fell from his lips like a prayer. A salvation.
Harry did not think. Did not second guess. He apparated them to his secret safe house in Wiltshire.
Harry crossed the threshold, with Draco cradled safely in his arms. He was light as a feather, despite the new set of tits he was sporting, each the size of a toddler's head. He made a beeline to the showers, commanding his magic to get a warm bath going.
He gently lowered Draco into the water, coaxing his fingers off him, so he could join Draco in the tub. "Baby, I am not going anywhere. I am joining you in the bath. Let me just take off my clothes."
Reluctantly, Draco released him, but his eyes were trained on him as if he was afraid to blink.
Harry could understand his fear. He did not want to take his eyes off Draco either, afraid that this was all a dream. Afraid that when he looks away, Draco would be gone, again.
God, what if this was not real? What if the potion fumes were fucking with his head?
Shaking that though out of his head, Harry vanished his uniform. He climbed into the tub, behind Draco. The water doing miracles to his muscles, stiff and cold from that cave expedition.
He wrapped his hands around his naked torso and pulled him between his legs, trapping him. Protecting him. He hooked his chin over Draco's shoulders and buried his nose in the crook of his neck, shivering when the familiar soft note sugar and honey assaulted his nose.
"You're here." He whispered, "You are really here."
His heart thudded against his chest and performed a little summersault when Draco melted into him, "I am here."
Harry tightened his hold on Draco's stomach, touching and caressing. The feel of the smooth pudgy skin grounded him.
He is real. He is here.
Harry brushed away a stray tear, accidentally smearing his cheek with bath water. He swallowed quickly to clear the lump forming in his throat. "May I clean you up baby?" He asked, "Please?" He added hesitantly, when Draco quivered in his hold and said nothing. His silence foreign, but Harry would take this silence over his absence any day.
"Okay Harry." His voice was different. Older obviously, but the soft and airy cadence was a stark contrast to the sharp, prickly and biting it used to be.
Those bastards better enjoy their last day alive on earth. By sundown tomorrow, not a single one of them would be breathing.
Harry summoned his favourite body wash - Milk and honey - from the cabinet, he squeezed a generous amount on his palm. Hands shaking with nerves, he coated Draco's back with the liquid.
A stupid grin stretched across his face when Draco sighed and relaxed further into him as he worked his back, lathering up his shoulders in slow, deliberate strokes.
His hands glided across the smooth skin, gently applying pressure to wash away the dungeon out of every single pore.
"Harry." Draco gasped, his hands shooting up to hold his in place, pressed against his soft belly, "Harry, I have to tell you something."
Oh. He didn't remember.
"I know baby." Picking up on his fear and shame, Harry took the initiative to address the elephant - perhaps a cow is more fitting - in the room. "I know. I saw them. I saw your beautiful little tits. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to fear."
"Not little." Draco mumbled, shaky hands guiding Harry's to his not so little tits.
Oh god, Harry nearly moaned when the plump tits settled in his palm, heavy and full. A few drops of milk, squirted out, pooling at the center of his palm, slipping into the water.
"You're so beautiful baby," He whispered in a daze, "Fuck Draco, you are perfect."
Harry watched with fascination as thick and creamy milk continued to flow out of those juicy pink teats and into his hands. He could not tell the suds apart from milk. Both frothy and leaving his mouth watering with their delectable smell.
He needed to taste the milk, like he needed air. God, what was he thinking, bringing his beautiful cow to the bath - he should have taken him to their room and tied him to the bed, until Draco was screaming and writhing under him as he drank from those sinfully gorgeous udders.
Brain shut off and impulse taking over, he kneaded the soft flesh of Draco's tits. His touch light and tender with the same reverence he had grown to reserve for food.
"Moooo." The faint moan startled Harry out of his stupor. His grip on those juicy flesh tightened subconsciously, drawing out another adorable little moo, still shy, but louder than before.
"Aww," He cooed. Little Cow was getting comfortable. "Does that feel good baby? You are so cute." He dotted the side of Draco's face with featherlight kisses.
He wanted those tits inside his mouth. He wanted to suckle on those beautiful teats and taste the warm milk on his tongue. He wanted to fill the bathtub with Draco's milk and soak in it, breathe it in. He wanted to swaddle Draco up in a towel, pat him dry and dress him up in the cow printed lingerie, Harry had ordered for him all those years ago - but never got the chance to give him.
He wanted to finally, finally finish the transformation - give Draco the last potion and turn him into Harry's beautiful little breeding cow - irrevocably.
And this time, Harry was not going to trust anyone. He was going to finish this ritual by himself. He would keep Draco safe in their home. He would milk him, breed him and dote on him so much - he would never want to leave. Again.
Draco's ample chest rose and fell, with every pinch and tug. "Harry, moooore." He gasped, pushing his gorgeous arse against Harry's hard and weeping cock pressed against his stomach.
He could tell that Draco was going under the fog again. The moment of mental clarity provided by sheer relief of seeing Harry - a familiar face, that used to mean home - was fading.
He could imagine those beautiful grey eyes, going cross and hazy as his intelligence oozed down and out of his brain as milk, come and drool.
Without the breeding potion in his system, the incomplete ritual would have been feeding off of Draco's brain cells to keep him alive and full with milk. Meaning, the longer he stayed alive without the breeding potion, the dumber he would get with age.
Incomplete Magic always demands a sacrifice. Weather it was blood, magic itself or even brain cells.
In some twisted way, this was a silver lining. Dumber means, Draco did not have the intellect to process his trauma. His years as a hostage may as well have been mere seconds for him.
He might even like being turned into a human cow, this time around.
"They are a little heavy aren't they?" Harry cupped his udder and jiggled them. "You poor poor little thing." He doubled down on the jiggling, splashing milk everywhere in the tub. Patches of white bloomed around them, ripples of milk staining their clear bath water.
"Please, please Harry," He babbled, the milk leaking from all the pushing around, without proper channeling must be too much for him. "Milk me, please!"
Eight years ago, the post-war wixen world had been hard on Draco, showing him no mercy. One day, he had winded up in Harry's doorstep - no friends or family to turn to, no money, no job and, no social standing - asking for a purpose, begging for a sense of belonging.
Harry, out of the goodness of his heart had provided him a home and, a purpose. He did not expect much in return.
However, the longer Draco stayed, he got used to the idea of this pretty blond thing in his home, waiting on him hand and foot, cooking for him, cleaning after him. Harry started thinking of Draco as his wife. He had started dreaming of a white picket fence and a dozen children with his wife.
The image of Draco, smooth silver hair, flowing past his strong, wide hips was stuck in his head and had refused to leave. Harry yearned to stuff him with cock and get him pregnant, over and over again, till their children could only ever recognise their mother with his stomach stretched expanded, carrying their siblings.
Once the idea placed its roots in his mind, Harry worked out a carefully constructed plan to turn Draco into his faithful little breeding cow. He had started by filling his head with the idea of transforming into his perfect slut, pumped full with potions to make him soft and compliant, ready to carry Harry's hoard of children and feed them with his milk, rich in taste and nutrients.
"That's right baby," He whispered in his ears, one hand gliding down to spread the suds and milk into into Draco's stomach, hips and thighs until there was no patch of skin that wasn't drenched in his own milk.
"You're such a sweet little cow. Filling our bath with milk. Your skin is going to be so soft and supple, isn't that right baby? A luxurious milk bath for my spoiled cow." Harry's fingers skated around the raised flesh of Draco's teats. He pinched the nub between his fingers and pulled, coaxing out long streams of milk.
It had take an entire year to modify Draco's physical body into that of a cow.
Stage one had lasted nine months. In that time Draco's sharp and jagged edges mellowed out. Fat had started sitting around his thighs, hips, and chest, priming him for childbearing. His sizable cock had shrunk down to a tiny little nub - almost an afternoon thought- smaller than the clit of his newly formed pussy.
Stage two was shorter. The new set of potions had worked to increase the prolactin levels in his body and maintain it at a magical number to support lactation throughout his life.
Harry had crafted Draco's body to become their family milk bar. He would be grey and old, still leaking milk. He pictured a family picnic in the great outdoors of their Wiltshire home, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren lining up to drink from their beloved cow parent.
"Oh." Draco trashed in his hold, his fingers digging into Harry's water softened thighs. Harry swallowed his groan of surprises and started to catalogue Draco's body language.
Toes and fingers curled, erect nipples, dazed and dilated pupils, rivulets of drool rolling down the side of his chin. Mouth parted as silent puffs of breath escaped his throat, and of course, the non-stop flow of milk.
What the hell?
Draco was not supposed to feel sexual pleasure or even desire without the breeding potion. Stage two was strictly lactation focused, the potions were designed to turn off pleasure receptors and his pussy physically warded off anyone trying to touch it - even Harry!
This could only mean one thing... the ritual was reacting to Harry's magic. The ritual magic must have latched onto Harry's, recognising it as its master - it was trying to accelerate the process of turning Draco into a full fledged human cow.
"Oh, Harry." A jet of milk splashed around them, the squelch loud and obscene, diluting with the water. "So gooood." It should not be possible, but Harry swore the tub was more milk than water at this point. The fresh, heady smell of cream and sugar was driving him crazy.
Harry needed to concentrate. He should leave the mindless drooling to Draco. He was proving to be excellent at being a dumb cow, thinking only of getting mounted and milked.
Draco, without a sound mind and autonomy was so sexy.
Harry should have thought of this before, when Draco used to complain about the pumps on his still flat chest.
He really should have turned his brain into mush either through potions of hypnotic charms, before he went crying to Hermione - who in a false sense of moral superiority tried to "save" him from Harry only to lose him to a potions ring.
He had not talked to Hermione since.
He watched the hypnotic rise and fall of Draco's chest and the never ending stream of sweet milk, rolling down those sinful curves. He watched Draco milk his other teats, learning from and following Harry, his little whimpers and moos burned into Harry's mind, planning to stay there forever.
There was no use ruminating on the past. All that mattered was that Draco was sage and sound. His precious milk may have been exploited. But Draco was safe. He was safe. He was between Harry's arms.
And more importantly, Draco was eager to turn into Harry's cow, this time.
Only took him seven years and one kidnapping.
Giving his udders one last indulgent squeeze, Harry climbed out of the milk bath, maneuvering them both into the shower to rinse off the residual suds and stickiness - entirely redundant, given the nature of the activities he has planned for them next.
"There we go little cow, all clean." He summoned a towel from his room and wrapped it around his waist. He did not miss the longing expression that crossed Draco's features when his cock disappeared behind the towel.
Oh, his sexual appetite was returning alright.
Pre-kidnapping Draco was one hell of a cock hungry whore. Harry could only hope that his dungeon days did not mess with his cock sucking skills.
He would offer Draco a towel, but what good is it, if he was going to saturate it with milk anyway? He was saving Draco from doing extra laundry, like the good husband he was.
Besides, some nasty bastards kept him naked and bound in a cave. Harry was his husband - if not in paper, then in spirit at least - he had more of a right to Draco's body than those low-life bastards.
"So pretty."
Snapping out of the mournful daze, Draco looked at him, as Harry started petting his hair - the silky wet locks gliding between his fingers.
He pulled him in for a kiss, sliding his hands lower, stroking the even silkier skin of his little pet. His body seemed to be hyper-aware of Harry's touch, recognising his magic and power, responding oh so beautifully to its owner.
Harry pulled back and watched with satisfaction as he tried to chase his lips, whining when he was unsuccessful. His cheeks were flushed red and it traveled all the way down his full udders. Harry wondered if he could naturally enhance the flavour, what if one of their kids did not like honey? What if they wanted strawberry, or even chocolate flavoured milk?
So many ideas... and a lifetime to implement them.
Hopefully.
Harry wrapped three fingers around Draco's useless dicklet and pulled him out of the bathroom. He did not need to look behind to know that his pet was stumbling after him obediently, his delicious big tits jiggling around with each step. The sound of skin slapping on wet skin echoed obscenely around the hallways, and Draco's pathetic moans and moos did little to swallow the sound.
Harry pulled him into the room and closed the door behind them. His large unmade bed has never looked more inviting. He could imagine all the ways he was going to fuck Draco into that bed, just today.
"You're doing a good job, baby cow." He pushed Draco onto the bed and crawled on top of him, straddling his thighs. "I can't believe you managed to walk on two feet, and did not fall on your face. Was that difficult baby? I bet it must be, what with your big udders, throwing off your balance."
"Yes Harry. 'Fraid to fall and hurt baby."
Awwww!
"You silly little cow," Harry flicked his forehead. "You are not pregnant yet, but don't worry darling, I am about to change it soon"
Draco's lips pulled into a cute little pout, while he rubbed the sore spot on his forehead, his eyes going cross, trying to look where he was rubbing, tongue poking out in concentration.
Fuck you past Harry for not thinking about melting this cute little cow's brain, at the first sign of a fight. Fuck you so much.
If only Draco had been this sweet little angel back then, and did not fight him, when they had to milk his barely there titties. So responsive and pliant.
"Harry give me baby?"
God, he loved him so much.
The walls of their home shook and shuddered, not unlike her masters. Harry bit back a smile when he realised she was just as excited as he was at the idea of finally, finally getting the family they both deserved.
"Of course, silly cow." He rubbed a hand around Draco's belly, the bare skin soft and warm from their milk bath. "I am going to fill you up with my come and my babies for years and years. Do you want that Draco?"
"Yes!" Draco's back arched off the bed and his sopping wet pussy, pressed against his covered dick. "Yes Harry. I want your seed. Want to be milked and with babies. Please..." He rolled his hip in slow tantalising motion, smirking down when Draco whimpered and screwed his eyes shut, milk squirting out in enthusiastic bursts.
"Then you will have it, baby cow. I will give you my seed and my babies. You will be full with babies and milk forever and ever." Harry leaned over him and whispered into the reddening shell of his ears.
Draco gasped at the promise in Harry's word and wailed when he leaned over him and took a hard juicy nipple between his teeth. His other hand wormed its way down his soft belly and settled on top of his cunt, teasing and taunting.
Draco squirmed, trying to bring pressure to his warm and hungry pussy by grinding against Harry's palm - crying when he was unsuccessful.
Harry gave his cunt a warning pat and suckled on those teats. Warm milk flooded his mouth, the taste of fructose and honey forever etched on his taste buds.
He was beyond delighted that even after all these years, the lactation potion was working in full swing, squirting out unending streams of warm milk on demand. He could only imagine the amount of brain cells, magic had claimed as compensation.
Fat droplets of milk dribbling down his chin, Harry let go of the teat and kissed Draco. He gripped the side of his head and fed him his own milk. "Taste good, doesn't it baby cow? This is the creamy goodness you will be feeding our children and grandchildren. No more store bought milk for our family."
The way Draco reacted to his words, twitching and flailing - body craving the same dirty pleasure, that was penetrating deep into the crevice of his hollow brain was addicting. Harry could tease and tease and tease his beautiful little cow and watch him unravel at the seams.
Harry called on his magic and summoned the round bottom glass flask, that had been preserved inside a stasis charm by his bedside. The flask was freezing cold on his hot skin. He uncorked it and poured the potion in his mouth.
Three doses. With spit, with milk, and then come. The recipe and the doses we hard to forget - after all he was the one who crafted it.
Harry sloshed the potion inside his mouth, allowing it to dilute with his spit. He held Draco's face in his hands again and kissed him, forcing the potions down his throat. The valerian root worked fast and loosened Draco's limbs, until he was even more pliant and putty in Harry's hands.
The root had been an precautionary measure. It was not needed in his current state, but Harry did not have a spare breeding potion without the root infused.
Draco blinked up at him, dazed and lazy. His limbs wrapped around Harry like an octopus, his hips buckled up still chasing the friction on his pussy. Harry threw his towel off the bed and decided to put the cow off his misery, rubbing his fat and angry cock head through the warm inviting lips, from slit to clit. Draco keened, choking on the potion.
Harry worked along the side of his face, planting little kissed down his way to Draco's chest. He took the oversensitive teats between his teeth again and sucked. The stream on milk hit the back of his throat, almost choking him, if not for the valerian root loosening the muscles around his throat. Harry let go of the nipple with a wet pop. He tilted his head back, the excess milk, escaping his mouth and running down and pooling at the hollow of his collarbone. Mouth still full, he took a swing of the potion and forced it down Draco's throat again.
His tongue licked at the roof of his mouth, coaxing out helpless little moos as he swallowed the potions, being forced down his throat . When he made to pull away, long strings of spit along their lips and chin connected them together.
"I have a gift for you, baby cow. Do you want it?" He whispered into his neck, biting the skin, preparing it for the gift.
"Mooooo." He gargled. Wet and needy, in more ways than one. Exactly how Harry liked him.
"That's right. You want it." Harry rewarded him with pat to his clit, letting his hands linger, meeting Draco's thrust by adding preassure, but not rubbing.
He reached over Draco's head and pulled out the gift from under his pillow. A thin white leather collar, with black polka dots on it. The straps were held together by an O-ring in the middle. A cowbell the size of Harry's pinky finger hung from the ring.
Draco, still humping his palm looked up at him when the bell chimed. "Oh." His grey eyes glinting silver, under the unshed tears widened, he looked at the bell transfixed, little puffs of breath punched out of his lungs. Harry held the bell over is head when Draco made grabby motions towards it.
"Uh uh, baby cow. Not so soon." Draco whined, crossing his arms under his heavy udders and pouted up at him.
Harry laughed, hearty and full. He placed a gentle little peck on the tip of his nose, and Draco turned away from him in a huff and a petulant moo.
Harry reached down and grabbed the head of Draco's useless dicklet, he pinched and stroked, until Draco snapped his head back, looking at him with those glossy pitiful eyes, his arms uncrossed and went down to cup his dicklet, soothing the skin Harry had tormented.
"That's right, baby. Good cow wives don't get huffy at their husbands, especially when the husband is holding the cow's wedding ring in his hands."
"Mooo..." Draco bit his lips and had the decency to look ashamed. He wrapped a hand around Harry's neck and pulled him down to his tits, offering his milk as an apology.
Harry had planned to teach him a lesson in discipline and obedience, but if apology tasted like fresh cream and honey, maybe disciplinary actions can wait a little longer.
"Alright baby, apology accepted." He patted the red and twitching dicklet, offering his own apology for the rough handling.
"This is not just a gift Draco." He held up the bell in Draco's face again. "This is your wedding ring my love. It is not an accessory but a sign of your devotion to me."
"You may not remember this baby cow, there was a time when you loved and wanted a family with me. But you left me baby. You left me because you did not like leaking milk from your tits - "
"Moooo?" Draco interrupted him. Eyes widened incredulously, as he held up his udders and alternated looking between them and Harry.
"Yeah that's right." Harry continued, mock indignant and patronising, "Who would not like the idea of feeding their family for generations and generations!"
He swallowed down a laugh as Draco, full of righteous anger, mooed and babbled, holding his massive udders in emphasis, as if Harry could ever forget they existed.
"Yeah, what an asshole! I gave him a home and I was ready to give him a family and he threw that in my face and left me all because he couldn't handle a little extra weight on his chest."
Draco, pulled Harry down, yet again and crushed his face between his cushiony tits. Harry propped his wet and sloppy chin on the valley of his udders and looked at him, as he let put small, soothing moos, as if hoping to remove the pain Harry was speaking of.
Motherly instincts. Check.
"I will give you this ring my love. I will give you the ring and my heart and my babies. But you have to promise me. Please promise that you will never leave me like he did. You are all the family I have."
Draco meeting Harry's gave head on, mooed once, then twice and then again and again in a symphony that was beyond Harry. After he was done he bared his bruised neck to Harry, asking for the wedding ring.
Maybe that was the cow version of a wedding vows.
Harry fasted the collar around his neck and vanished the buckle, he trailed a finger along the edge of the band, admiring the spots of black, standing stark across the pearly white skin and roses of bruises.
He flicked the bell and delighted when Draco mooed, milk and come gushing out of him without any stimulation.
Harry's perfect little cow.
Picking up the flask, resting on the bed, Harry shuffled until he was sat astride Draco's thighs. He ran a finger over the tip of his own cock head, collecting a few dollops of precome. He smeared the come along the rim of the flask and took a small sip. He repeated the process with Draco's come from the dicklet and slick from the cunt.
He leaved over him, chest to breast, pressing his own hard nipples against Draco's rubbing the hard nubs together. Draco shuddered and gasped, his hands coming to rest on Harry's back, pulling them impossibly close together.
He administered the last dose of the breeding potion in an utterly sloppy, open mouthed kiss. Harry sunk his fingers into those silky strands of hair and pulled, watching his throat bobbing as the last of the breeding potion entered his system.
"Draco, what is two plus tow?"
"Mooo" the answer was breathed on his face, the scent of milk, come and Draco washing over him, intoxicating him.
"Hmm. Right answer. Smart cow." He petted his hair, drowsy and sluggish, the valerian root pulling him under.
The next thing he knew, his head was cushioned on some big and soft pillows, fingers combing through his hair. Sleep pulled him deeper and deeper.
God, please don't let this be a dream. Again. Please
Minister Hermione Granger had lived through a war, yet no war could have prepared her for the absolute massacre rotting in the Ministry's in house prision.
Her legs threatened to give up on her, yet she persisted, pushing herself forward, to look at the victims' faces over the forensic staff's shoulder.
Oh. It was the potions ring she sold Malfoy to.
Well, there goes her campaigning funds.
Hermione could guess that by this time Harry knew she did not "lose" Malfoy. He would have found out that she had deliberately sold him to them and demanded sixty five percent of the profit from the potions made using Malfoy's milk.
She could also guess that Harry would spare her life. And that is all he would do. He was definitely planning to make the upcoming elections hell for her.
He would spare her life bit not her sanity or serenity.
Epilogue - of sorts
The glass was cold against his palm. Condensation raced down the side of the glass to pool at his hands. His tongue darted out to lick the stray drops of milk, splashing on his face, instead of in the glass - interwoven with stasis and cooling charm.
Harry placed the glass down and wiped his hands on Draco's bare thighs, which was probably due another Sun-shield charm, if he did not want his cow to sport lobster legs.
The red skin might have looked dashing against his usual black patterned lingerie, but today Draco had decided to be a strawberry cow.
The pathetic excuse of an underwear, did more to highlight the state of his undress than it did to preserve his modesty. Fat cunt lips spilled out of his white and baby pink g-string. It commented with a matching bra - that was more udder support than it was bra. The fabric cut off in a crescent, cupping and holding the underside of his tits. Harry had charmed the black polka dots of his wedding ring into baby pink to compliment the rest of his outfit and the usually golden bell was silver today, because even if his cow did not know basic math, he knew which jewellery tone matched which outfit shade.
"Hard day at work, yeah baby cow?" Harry stroked his teats again, pinching and squeezing, catching the stream of strawberry milk in the glass, placed under his udders.
"Moooo."
"Yup, you're right. We will continue again in the evening." Harry closed the glass the a lid and sent it up to their kitchen.
He got off the small wooden stool, dusting the back of his pants. He unhooked the clasp of the lead from his belt hoop and fastened it around the O-ring of Draco's wedding ring, patting him behind his ears, for a job well done.
They had drained five litres of milk just that evening. It was definitely not enough for their horde of naughty kids, but it was enough to sustain them until evening.
Harry tugged on the lead, urging Draco to follow them into their home. Harry did not need to look back to know that Draco would be stumbling after him, on all fours, tits and obscenely large pregnant belly hanging under him.
Harry whistled a tune under his breath, walking his little cow back home, grass crunching under his boots, the cacophony of their kids chasing little bunnies around their backyard farm, echoing under the clear blue skies.
- Moo -