Chapter 5

Harry's head spun, his body buzzing as Celeste worked her mouth up and down on his cock with such skill that it seemed almost otherworldly. Her lips moved along his cock, slow and teasing, her tongue tracing the sensitive underside with just enough pressure to make him shake.

Her hands were busy cradling his balls, those thumbs brushing in a way that sent jolts through his entire body. She didn't let up, sucking him off with such enthusiasm that it felt like she was pouring everything into pleasing him.

"Celeste," he gasped, his voice rough and his hips twitching to meet her rhythm. "This is… fuck, this is unreal."

She hummed around the mouthful of cock, the vibration shooting through him, and her purple eyes flicked up to meet his, glowing brightly. There was something in her gaze—lust, sure, but also something deeper, like she was giving herself to him completely. It hit him hard, and it was a feeling he couldn't quite name.

She pulled back just enough, her lips hovering over the tip, her breath hot against his skin.

"My master," she murmured, her voice thick with devotion. "You taste incredible. Your magic, your essence—it pulls me in. I was made for this, for you."

Harry's breath caught, his mind tangled in a mix of pleasure and questions. "Made for me?" he managed, his voice tight. "What—what are you, Celeste?"

She smiled seductively and slid up the bed, her movements sensual and almost predatory. Her dress, a tight and small black number that hugged her curves, rode up her thighs, showing off the sheer stockings that had been driving him crazy all night.

"I am yours," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Bound to the Black bloodline, to the heir of this manor, yes. But I belong to you, Master Harry. My purpose is to serve you, to please you, and to strengthen you."

"To strengthen me?" Harry asked.

Her eyes darkened, her voice dropping into a whisper. "Among other things, but we have time for that. Right now, it's time for you to claim me."

Harry watched, his heart pounding, as she scooted back and stood at the foot of the bed. Her fingers found the zipper at the side of her dress, pulling it down slowly. The fabric parted, revealing smooth skin inch by inch—her collarbone, the curve of her breasts, and the dip of her waist. She shrugged the dress off, letting it pool at her feet, standing there in nothing but those stockings and a black lace thong.

Harry's mouth went dry as he stared. Her body was stunning—full big breasts that looked so soft as they swayed and a narrow waist flaring into hips that begged to be grabbed. Her crimson hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the dim light of the room.

"Fuck," Harry breathed, his eyes locked on her. He sat up, unable to stop himself, his cock throbbing and his hands twitching to reach out and touch her. "You're gorgeous."

She stepped closer, a small smile playing on her lips, and climbed onto the bed on all fours. Those large tits dangled enticingly, slapping against each other as she came closer, straddling his thighs.

"All for you, Master," she said, her voice soft but full of lust and devotion. Her hands moved to her thong, hooking her thumbs under the lace and sliding it over her curvy ass. It slid down her legs, and she tossed it aside. Now she was bare except for the stockings, her skin pale and perfect, and her pussy glistening in the low light. Harry's cock twitched, already hard and aching from her earlier work.

He reached for her, his hands sliding up her thighs, feeling the contrast of smooth skin and the texture of her stockings.

"Celeste," he said, his voice rough with want, "I need to touch you."

She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "Touch me, Master. I'm yours to explore. Yours to command."

Harry didn't need more encouragement. His hands roamed her body, starting at her thighs and slowly moving up to her hips, gripping them firmly. He pulled her closer, his lips finding her neck, kissing and nipping at the soft skin there. She let out a quiet moan, tilting her head to give him better access.

His hands slid higher, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. They hardened under his touch, and she arched into him, her breath hitching.

"Like that?" he asked, his voice low, lips still against her neck as he fondled her tits, teasing her nipples.

"Yes," she whispered, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Don't stop."

He didn't even though he could. He took his time, savoring every inch of her. His lips moved down to her collarbone, kissing all over her neck before drifting lower, kissing the swell of her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue flicking over it.

Celeste gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders and her hips shifting closer. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, loving the way she responded—small moans, her body trembling under his hands as she gripped him hard.

His hands slid down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist, and he reached around, cupping her delicious ass. He squeezed, pulling her flush against him, savoring the feeling of her large tits mashed up against his chest and the heat of her pussy against his cock. She was wet, slick, and the contact made him groan.

"You feel so good," he muttered, his lips moving back up to hers.

She kissed him, hard and hungry, her tongue sliding against his. "Take me, Master," she whispered against his mouth. "I'm ready for you."

Harry's hands tightened on her hips as he lowered himself on the bed, guiding her as she lifted herself, straddling him. She reached down, fingers wrapping around his cock, stroking once, twice, before positioning him at her entrance. The tip of his manhood brushed against her hot and wet pussy, and he groaned, fighting the urge to thrust up right then.

"Celeste," he said, his voice shaky, "you sure about this?"

Her eyes locked on his, glowing with that strange, intense light. "I've never been more sure, Master. Claim me."

Slowly, she sank down, taking him in inch by inch, and Harry's breath almost stopped, his hands gripping her hips as her tight heat enveloped him.

It was his first time, and nothing could've prepared him for this—her pussy was perfect, gripping him like she was made for him. He groaned, his head falling back against the pillow, as she took him fully, her hips flush against his.

"Fuck," he gasped, his hands sliding up to her waist. "You're so tight. So perfect."

Celeste moaned softly, her head tilting back and her crimson hair spilling over her shoulders.

"Master Harry," she breathed, her voice trembling. "You feel… so good. So strong."

She refused to waste even a moment and started moving, rolling her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm that made his vision blur. Her hands braced on his chest, her crimson nails digging into his skin just enough to sting, and she leaned down to kiss him, her lips soft but demanding.

Harry kissed her back, one hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, the other gripping her ass, guiding her movements. She was incredible—every roll of her hips, every clench of her pussy, sent waves of pleasure through him. He couldn't get enough of her body, his hands roaming everywhere—her thighs, her breasts, the curve of her back, and her bubble butt. He loved the way her stockings felt under his fingers, the contrast of lace and skin driving him wild.

"You're amazing," he said, his voice raw and rough, as his hips started to move with her. He thrust up, meeting her rhythm, and she gasped, her nails digging harder into his chest.

The sound of their bodies filled the room—skin slapping against skin, her soft moans, and his ragged breaths. The air seemed to hum, their magic connecting in a way that made his skin tingle, like their heartbeats were syncing up again.

Celeste's movements sped up, her hips grinding harder and her pussy clenching around him in a way that made him see stars.

"All for you," she murmured, her eyes half-lidded and her voice thick with devotion. "Every part of me, every breath—it's yours."

She leaned down, kissing him again, her tongue teasing his and her breasts pressing against his chest.

Harry groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs, spreading them wider. He thrust harder, deeper, loving the way she moaned with every movement.

Her body was perfect—soft and firm in all the right places, her skin warm under his hands. He couldn't stop touching her, couldn't stop marveling at how she felt, how she moved, how she gave herself to him completely.

"I'm yours," she whispered, her voice a mix of adoration and need, her eyes locked on his. "My master, my lord. I feel your magic, your soul. It's… overwhelming."

Harry's control was fraying, his body moving on instinct. He flipped them, rolling her onto her back without breaking their connection, her legs wrapping around his waist.

He thrust into her, hard and steady, watching her face—her lips parted, her eyes glowing, and her cheeks flushed. She was beautiful, and she was his. He leaned down, kissing her neck, her jaw, her lips, pouring everything into it.

"Celeste," he groaned, feeling the pressure building in his gut, his cock throbbing inside her. "I'm close."

"Yes," she gasped, her legs tightening around him, her pussy clenching hard. "Give it to me, Master. All of you."

Harry couldn't hold back. With a low groan, he came, his release spilling into her greedy pussy, his body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. Rope after rope of his thick, hot, and potent seed shot deep into her quivering quim, and Harry kept thrusting hard and fast, clutching her hard against him.

Celeste cried out, her own orgasm hitting her like a tidal wave, her nails raking down his back as her pussy pulsed around him. Their magic surged, a wave of energy that made the room hum, the chandelier flickering above them.

They stayed like that for a long while, their naked and sweaty bodies pressed together and their breaths heavy. Celeste's forehead rested against his, her hair tickling his face, and her eyes still glowing faintly. She kissed him softly, her lips lingering, and Harry felt that same ache in his chest, like their connection was more than just physical.

Suddenly, her expression changed, her brow furrowing as she pulled back to look at him.

"Master," she said, her voice soft but serious. "There's… something inside you. A darkness. It doesn't feel like you."

Harry's heart skipped, the pleasure fading in an instant as her words hit him. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice rough and his hands still wrapped around her, holding her close.

She stared at his forehead with an intense look on her face. She caressed his cheek as her hand climbed, her fingers brushing his scar, and he flinched, a strange jolt running through him.

"Here," she said, her voice quiet but certain. "I feel it in your scar. A fragment of something… wrong. Like a piece of someone else's soul, tied to yours. A failed attempt at soul magic."

A jolt of fear shot through Harry at those words. His stomach dropped, his mind racing. A piece of someone else's soul. His scar. The Horcruxes.

Voldemort had split his soul, hiding pieces in objects to cheat death. But the idea that a piece of Voldemort's soul was inside him, that he was a Horcrux… it made his blood run cold.

His mind replayed all the conversations he'd had with Dumbledore over the years. The mysterious connection he shared with Voldemort, his ability to speak Parseltongue, Dumbledore's theory that Voldemort had unintentionally given him some of his powers that night, and the intense pain whenever he was near anything deeply connected to Voldemort or Voldemort himself. It all added up!

"No," he whispered, his voice shaking. "That can't be right."

Celeste's eyes softened, her hand cupping his face. "I feel it, Master," she said, her voice full of certainty and care. "Your magic is pure, strong, more beautiful than any other I've come across. There is power in you, more potent than any other. But this darkness clings to you, like a shadow that isn't yours. I felt it when our magic connected, when you marked me with your seed, when you claimed me."

Harry's mind spun, the implications crashing over him. If he was a Horcrux, did that mean he had to die to stop Voldemort? Had a piece of the Dark Lord been inside him all these years, influencing him, tying them together? The visions, the connection to Voldemort's mind—it all fit, and it made him sick.

"Celeste," he said, voice barely audible, his hands tightening on her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, her eyes filled with devotion. "I am, Master. But you are stronger than this darkness. Your magic, your soul—they're yours. I'll help you, serve you, protect you. Whatever it takes."

Harry stared at her, his chest tight, fear and realization swirling in his head. He was a Horcrux. A piece of Voldemort was inside him. But as he looked into Celeste's glowing eyes, felt her warmth still pressed against him, he believed her.

She leaned in, kissing him softly, and Harry kissed her back desperately, holding her close.

He was stronger than this. He would survive, as he always had.

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