Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Beastly Harem	By : crmoon Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 76188 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own the HP fandom, any of the creatures, characters, storyline, etc. I only play with them and make them do bad things. No money made.

Chapter List
- 1-Harry Potter and the Beastly Harem
- 1
A/N: For the sake of this story, I ignored select bits of canon. Harry is a seventh year, BUT Sirius is alive and well, Firenze works at Hogwarts and has a dominant role in his herd, Buckbeak has been cleared of his crimes, and Dumbledore never died. Also, I wrote this in one sitting at 2am and I didn’t use a beta. All typos are my fault. Thanks.

                Harry peeked up from his caldron to scan his classmates. Most seemed to be having the same issue as him. His potion was green. Not aquamarine, not even turquoise, but green. He wiped at the fogged lens of his glasses and felt the sweat begin to bead on his forehead. It rolled down his temple slowly, as he chewed his lower lip and stared at all the green.

                BLUE. The board clearly said blue, but no matter how much extra hemswick he added, it stayed emerald green. He frowned, leaning forward over the caldron. For a moment, it had almost looked like there was an image in the green. He squinted. His gaze jerked to the left when Hermione bumped his shoulder.

                She sent him an apologetic smile, moving away to mutter to herself and continue flipping through the textbook. Harry looked passed her where Ron and Neville both looked on the verge of illness. A thick brown fog drifted up from their caldron, and the two of them leapt back. Not fast enough it seemed, as long donkey ears began to sprout from the top of their heads.

                Harry snorted, quickly dropping his gaze to avoid the furious Snape. The man immediately launched into a blistering lecture. He cringed in sympathy and looked down at his caldron, again. The liquid began to swirl slowly in the opposite direction of his stirring. He glanced at his book, then the chalkboard. The instructions for the True Identity potion seemed to mock him.

                FUCKING BLUE. He groused to himself, as he began to flip the pages of his textbook. There was nothing about the potion being green. No one else seemed to have a green potion. Most seemed to be some shade of brown. He looked over the instructions carefully, trying desperately to see where he could have gone wrong.

                His eyes flicked to Snape who was working his way down the aisles, acid words dripping as he passed each student. Harry grit his teeth, already hearing the usual insults in his mind. He was stupid/careless/spoiled/an attention seeker. His hands balled into fists at his sides. He closed his eyes for a moment, barely feeling the bead of sweat that rolled down the end of his nose.

It hovered there for what seemed like forever. As it fell, Harry realized what he had added. Hemstooth, rather than hemswick. His mouth dropped open in shock. He jerked his head to yell to his professor, but already he could feel the contents of his caldron exploding over him.

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At first, there was only darkness and a dull ache in his chest. Harry did not know how long he floated in the darkness, feeling tired and achy. It felt like forever and only a moment. Strange smells assaulted his nose from what seemed like everywhere. An odd musty scent, it reminded him of dust and hay. It was so familiar.

As he tried to remember where he had smelled it before, a new scent swept over him. It was like wet grass and wild onion. He inhaled deeply, the scent as familiar as the first. A new smell started to take the place of the second, but he forced it away and struggled to escape the darkness. His eyes opened to light. Painfully bright, it pierced his eyes. With a sharp cry, he threw his arm over his face. He heard loud voices, then the light faded.

“Harry?”

                He moved enough to see Hermione’s worried face. He dropped his arm back to his side and looked around the room. He was clearly in the hospital wing. His eyes widened at the people surrounding his bed.

                “What’s happened, now?” He looked to Dumbledore, who gave him a bright smile.

                “Good to see the boy has a bit of sense,” he heard Snape mutter from his left.

                He turned to look at the potions professor. “What’s happened, Snape?”

                “Professor Snape,” Dumbledore corrected gently, drawing Harry’s attention. When Harry continued to stare at him, he nodded. “I have some news, my boy.”

                Harry frowned. “Good or bad, headmaster?”

                “I think that depends on your point of view, Harry,” he answered cheerfully. It immediately put Harry on guard.

                “I think I’d like to hear it, headmaster.” He looked at Ron and Hermione, who stood at his bed side. Hermione tried to smile, but it did not reach her teary eyes. He jerked his gaze to Ron to see him looking equally upset. Harry’s eyes widened.

                “Now, please try to stay calm,” Dumbledore started.

                “Did someone die?” He turned fearful eyes to the headmaster and tried to sit up.

                “No, Harry,” Dumbledore was quick to assure him. He pressed gently on Harry’s shoulder until he lay back. “Your potion was green, was it not?”

                Harry frowned up at him, but nodded.

                “Did any part of you touch the surface of the potion, Harry?” Harry wondered at the intense look in the blue eyes.

                He started to shake his head, and then paused. “A drop of sweat, but that’s all.” He watched Dumbledore’s eyes flick to Snape. “I think Professor Snape should explain what happened when your body fluid mixed with the potion you made.”

                Harry turned his head to look at Snape, who looked as if he had sucked on a lemon. He had a feeling the news was going to be bad. Very bad. He swallowed hard when Snape opened his mouth and started to speak.

                “As you know, you were intended to make a True Identity potion to be used in interrogations.” He looked at Harry in disdain. “Of course, your incompetence created something entirely different.”

                For the first time, Harry ignored the man’s tone. He stared at him, watching his every move.

                Snape began to pace, continuing his lecture. “An exchange of hemstooth for hemswick, powdered werewolf fang instead of ground boomslang skin, hair of a thestral, and a feather from a hippogriff resulted in a fantastic disaster of a potion. Among other idiocy, a few leaves from the Whomping Willow found their way into your caldron.” He paused to scowl at Harry. “I was saving that for a potion.”

                “Severus,” Dumbledore said softly. It seemed to bring Snape’s attention back to the matter at hand.

                “It will take a few days to know exactly what you have done to yourself, but it would seem you have, at the very least, revealed your creature inheritance.”

                Harry stared at him in shock, still trying to digest the many mistakes he had made. The whole morning he had felt a bit off. He lightly touched his forehead. The low grade temperature he had all morning had faded.

                “What creature?” he asked softly, to no one in particular.

                Dumbledore stepped closer to him. He laid a hand on his shoulder, waiting until Harry met his eyes. “You are a Wivre Nymph, Harry.”

                Harry stared at him. After a moment, he started to laugh. “A wivre is a dragon, headmaster. Even I know that.” He laughed harder. “You really had me going.” He shook his head in amusement, throwing back the blankets to stand.

                “This is not a joke, Potter,” Snape spat.

                Harry paused. His laughter died as he looked at the stony faces around him. He looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione, willing them to start laughing. It had to be a joke. They looked even more upset after his laughter.

                “It’s not a joke,” he echoed. He dropped his head into his hands. “Why does everything happen to me?” he mumbled to himself. He raised his head. “What is a Wivre Nymph?”

                He heard rustling behind him, and then the headmaster rounded the foot of his bed to stand in front of him. “A dragon nymph from far north. They were supposed to have gone extinct over a thousand years ago.”

                Harry looked up at the almost cheerful tone, to see the headmaster’s eyes twinkling. “Is this a good thing?”

                “To show any outward sign of your inheritance, your power must be far greater than we had first supposed.”

                Harry frowned, looking down at himself. “What outward signs?” He watched McGonagall pull her wand and summon a mirror.

                “Mr. Potter,” she said in her usual no-nonsense tone.

He gave her a small smile and took the mirror. He nearly dropped it when he got his first look at his face. Where his face had been thin and deathly pale, it was now a milky white. The flawless skin stretched over his cheek bones and long, inky lashes framed his eyes. For the first time, he noticed his glasses were absent.

Without them, his eyes appeared large and nearly luminescent. Tipping his head, he noticed his facial shape seemed a bit more round. It gave him an almost androgynous prettiness. He licked full, pink lips and his eyes widened as he caught sight of his ears. Their pointed tips vanished into his messy hair. He frowned and touched the thick locks.

His hair was definitely longer. He hummed in thought. Where it had been simply messy, it now seemed sexily tousled. His reflection raised its eyebrows.

“Are there going to be any other physical changes?” He handed the mirror back to his head of house, glancing at Dumbledore.

“We do not believe so, Harry. They are, however, permanent.” He paused, waiting for Harry to nod his understanding. “There is one more matter that I would like to discuss with you.”

Harry frowned at his tone. “Yes, sir.”

“Could we have a moment, please?” Dumbledore suddenly asked, looking at the others expectantly.

As they filed out of the infirmary, Harry watched Dumbledore’s face for any sign of bad news. His face was impossible to read. When the door closed behind McGonagall, the old wizard moved to the chair at his bedside.

“Lemon drop?” he asked, settling into the seat.

Harry shook his head. “No, thank you.” The strangeness of the situation did not escape him.

He nervously watched Dumbledore remove a candy from somewhere in his robes. After a moment, the twinkling eyes settled on him.

“I wanted to speak to you alone about what you should expect.”

Harry nodded. “Alright.”

Dumbledore sucked on his candy, apparently deep in thought. “What do you know about nymphs, Harry?”

“Er.” Harry scratched his head. “I know they live in the woods.” He frowned. “Does that mean I have to live outside?” He let out a sigh when the headmaster shook his head.

“Do you know anything about their personal habits?”

Harry tipped his head to the side. “Like hobbies?”

Dumbledore gave him an amused look. “No, Harry. Reproduction.”

His face immediately heated. He ducked his head. “No.”

“There is no reason to be shy. It is all perfectly natural.” Dumbledore stroked his beard. “Now, Harry, I do not want you to be alarmed.” He paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “Nymphs tend to mate with other creatures. Usually bonding with two to four dominant males for protection.”

Harry stared at him in dawning horror. “What? I am expected to do that?” His voice ended in a squeak.

“It is an instinctual pull, Harry. I assure you it is perfectly natural for your kind.” He suddenly stood. “I believe I have a book in my office on nymph breeds. I admit the information on Wyvre Nymphs is scant, but it should be helpful nonetheless.”

“Headmaster,” Harry called desperately.

Dumbledore stopped at the foot of his bed. “I will help you in whatever way I can, Harry. As will, Professors Snape and McGonagall.” He patted the blanket over Harry’s feet. “You are not alone in this.”

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It was two days later when Harry got the first hint that all was not well. As he trooped out the front doors of the school with Hermione and Ron, a familiar scent hit his nose. Musty, like dust and hay and something else. He closed his eyes to inhale deeply. The scent got stronger the closer he got to the barn for Care of Magical creatures.

Slytherin and Gryffindor, the class gathered outside the entrance to the large building. People chattered and giggled, waiting for Hagrid to appear. As Harry joined the rest of the class, a strange tingle started in the pit of his stomach. He craned his head to see over the heads of his classmates, and a strong wind flung the scent in his face.

The tingle increased, until it was a blush staining his cheeks and rippling across his skin. He ducked his head to hide his heated face. His eyes widened when he realized where the tingle had settled.

“’Right, class. It’s Thestrals and their grooming today. For those of you who are unable to work with the thestral, I’ve brought Buckbeak.”

Distracted, Harry’s head jerked up at the sound of Hagrid’s voice. The large man had already turned to lead the class into the barn, leaving him no choice but to follow. As the dark closed around him, his eyes looked around frantically, searching for the source of the scent.

“This is a thestral,” Hagrid announced, interrupting his thoughts. As his eyes moved to the large, black creature standing beside the half-giant, he froze.

Hagrid continued to speak, but the buzzing in his ears made it impossible to make out his words. His eyes stayed glued to the beast that had raised its head and was slowly turning toward him. He felt the moment its eyes found him and he shivered. He was achingly aware of the blood pounding in his head and the swelling in his pants.

He bit his lip, struggling to look away. The thestral took a step toward him and he stumbled back. He vaguely heard Hermione ask if he were alright. The buzzing increased, and the urge to approach the beast was so strong it was almost painful. He shook his head hard.

“Harry?”

He jerked his head to see Hermione looking at him worriedly. His eyes moved to Ron, whose gaze was flicking between him and the invisible beast Hagrid held.

“I need to go see Madame Pomfrey,” Harry mumbled under his breath. Uncaring if Hagrid heard him, he fled.

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Eight hours later, the tingle still tormented him. Any brush against his cock was agony, the skin so sensitive he had taken off his pants. The urge to go to the barn increased along with the tingle. It was maddening. He gripped handfuls of his hair. Sitting in bed with the curtains drawn, his mind wandered.

What was so wrong about going down to the barn? He drew a blank. Thestrals were docile creatures. Their sharp teeth were used for eating prey, not biting students. Besides, he had to figure out why he had such a strange reaction to its scent. Mind made up, he crawled out of bed.

He barely noticed that the tingle faded, the closer he came to the barn. His skin stopped itching, and blood rushed under his skin. The grounds were deserted. He paused at the door to the barn to listen for any sign of company. The night sounds of the forest were the only noise. He slid open the door and slipped inside.

He blinked in the dimness, moving toward the sound of faint shuffling. A sound, like metal grinding against metal, came from somewhere ahead and he froze. A moment later, heavy footsteps started toward him. An urge to drop to his knees shot through him, and he fought to resist.

The footsteps stopped just in front of him. He opened his eyes wide, trying to make out the large shape in the darkness. He reached out with one hand cautiously. Something silky rubbed against his palm. Like a shot, arousal flooded his groin. He let out a low moan.

The silky hide moved under his hand. He gasped at the feel of warm breath on his face. He tipped his head back, offering his neck. What felt like instinct, told him the creature would be pleased at the gesture. It seemed to be true, as the creature rubbed its smooth skin against the side of his neck.

After a light nip, its head moved down to his robes. He heard loud snuffling and felt pressure against his chest. He arched into the touch, shivering at a snort of air against his left nipple. The steady pressure moved down until hot air reached his groin. Unlike everything else, the pressure wasn’t painful.

Pleasure so strong it almost brought him to his knees, pulsed through his body. He struggled to remain standing as the large muzzle continued to sniff at him. He felt his muscles quiver, and then a warm slickness began to slid down his thighs. He gasped. The sniffing paused for a moment, before a steady pressure pushed him back against a stack of hay bales.

Unsure of his actions, but somehow knowing it was the right thing to do, he pulled his robes from his body. As the muzzle returned to sniff at him, he curiously reached behind him to touch his ass. Something warm and slick leaked from him and his eyes widened in shock. The pressing at him became more insistent.

He turned away from the thestral and draped his robes over the hay bales behind him. The stack was slightly above his waist level. He turned to look over his shoulder at the dark shape. A firm prod against his ass made him moan. He ignored his brain and listened to his instincts, climbing onto the hay bales.

He lay on his stomach, legs spread and hanging over the edge of the stack. Almost immediately a weight settled over him. He reached out to his right and felt a sharp-boned leg. A moment later, something warm and slightly pointed, prodded against his ass. The slickness at his entrance allowed it to find its mark.

With a hard thrust, the thestral seated himself. Harry gasped, his muscles clenching hard around the intruder. Thin and firm, it struck against his prostate with startling precision. It pulled out and thrust back it. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw to stay silent. When it pushed into him again, a choked cry slipped out of him.

He shoved his fist in his mouth, biting down on it until he tasted blood. The pleasure was unlike anything he had felt before. Stronger than seemed possible. The skeletal body over him, pressed him into his robes, dominate enough to make his creature purr. The thestral seemed unhappy that he was not making more noise.

It snuffled against the back of his neck, nipping lightly and thrusting hard. Harry choked. His body shuddered violently, his ass grasping hungrily at the cock inside him. He tried to press back, but teeth at his neck forced him still. He moaned continuously, crying out a particularly sharp thrust.

It seemed to go on forever, keeping him on edge, but not allowing him to come. His prostate was missed just enough times to keep him from coming. He sobbed in need, wriggling as much as he could. The teeth grazed the back of his neck and he felt his cock twitch hard. Soft pleas fell from his lips. He begged for release.

A hard thrust made him see stars and claw at the robes beneath him. Finally, the creature seemed to take pity on him. It thrust against his prostate hard, and dragged its cock against it slowly. Pleasure rolled through him, stark and almost painful. The hardness inside him released at the same time his ass clenched around it, and he came hard over his robes.

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He sat in the back corner of the library, far away from the door. His gaze flicked up from the book frequently to insure Hermione had not found him. She had question, lots of questions. Since she had found out about his creature inheritance, she asked about his symptoms. The only one he had, he had no intention of sharing.

He had spoken to the headmaster the morning after his encounter with the thestral. He obviously had not told the truth, simply said he felt uncomfortable around the creatures in the barn. The headmaster’s look had been knowing, but he had not commented. Something Harry was infinitely grateful for.

He looked back down at the book in front of him. Having borrowed it from Dumbledore, he had expected it to be a thick tome. He chewed his bottom lip, as he flipped through what looked more like a thick pamphlet. So far, it contained what he already knew.

The small section on Wivre Nymphs was almost pointless. It told him next to nothing about why he had been attracted to the thestral. All it said, was he would feel the urge to submit to dominate males of various creature species. It gave a list of the ones he was most likely to feel drawn to. Luckily, the list was short. Among them: Thestrals, Werewolves, Centaurs, and Hippogriffs.

As he looked over the list, he frowned. Every animal was either dark or considered highly dangerous by the Ministry. He shut the book and tucked it back into his bag. Rubbing his forehead, he suddenly thought of Remus. The full moon was close, in a day or two, and he had not seen the man in almost three months. He sighed and stood, grabbing his bag.

He ignored the curious looks he got as he left the library. Most of the other students seemed to be in awe of him to some degree. It made him feel nervous and uncomfortable. The only time the feeling faded was when he walked past the hall that lead to the Divinations classroom. Each time, he let out a soft sigh.

Harry turned down the hall, letting his feet carry him where they would. As his mind wandered, he puzzled over the significance of Wyvre Nymphs being attracted to dangerous creatures. Was it for the protection? He shifted his bag and stopped to look around. The door just ahead of him was open, and beyond the doorway he could clearly see Firenze standing by the window. He started to back away.

“Harry Potter.” The centaur’s deep voice rumbled across the space between them, and Harry found himself unable to move. “I saw that you would come to me.” He slowly turned to face him.

Harry tensed, but his body refused to back away. “Did you?” he squeaked. At Firenze’s nod, he swallowed hard.

“I know why you are here, little nymph.” The centaur took a step away from the window, advancing on him slowly. “I know what you need.”

“Do you?” Harry cleared his throat, trying to erase the breathy quality that had taken over his voice. He took an involuntary step closer.

“I will give you what you need, Harry.” Firenze held out a hand, and Harry was helpless to stop himself from almost running forward to grasp it.

As the much larger hand closed on his, he looked up at the centaur. The male studied him carefully, seemingly searching for something. After a moment, he nodded as if he had found it.

“Close the door, Harry,” he commanded. “And lock it.”

Harry hurried to do as he was told, before turning back to the centaur.

“Come here.” Firenze moved to stand by the window.

Harry swallowed hard, nervousness and anticipation at war within him. He walked across the room, stopping in front on the centaur. Up close, the male was so much larger it was almost frightening. He looked up at Firenze’s face. Some of his thoughts must have showed, as the large face softened slightly.

“I will not harm you.” Firenze reached out for him. “I know you have already taken another creature, Harry.”

Harry blushed, ducking his head in shame. “I couldn’t help it,” he whispered. He felt a large hand on his chin. He let the centaur tip his head back.

“I was not damning you.”

Harry gasped at the feel of lips brushing his own. “Will you…” he trailed off, dropping his gaze.

“Yes,” Firenze answered. “And you will enjoy it.”

Harry shivered. “Please.”

The large hands smoothed down his chest, grazing his hardening nipples, and settling around his waist.

“You are so small,” Firenze murmured, seemingly to himself. His hands flexed, and Harry shuddered. “And so responsive.” He ducked his head to brush his cheek against Harry’s.

Harry let out a soft moan when he was lifted. He wrapped his legs around Firenze’s waist. The strong arms held him firmly. He twisted to test their hold and shivered when he could scarcely move. The centaur carried him, but with his face buried in the muscled chest he could not see where. The clomp of hooves on stone made his cock twitch, and he rubbed his face against the rough skin.

“Do you know what is going to happen, Harry?” Firenze stopped, and he felt wood against the back on his legs.

“You’re going to touch me?” Harry asked quietly, watching the centaur face as he sat him on the edge of the desk and backed up a step.

Firenze shook his head slowly. “I am going to fuck you.”

Harry bit his lip, feeling the slickness begin to leak from him. He squeezed his legs together. “Now?” He moaned at the centaur’s nod. “Oh, please.”

He arched his back, when the male reached for him. His robes seemed to vanish. In moments, he knelt on the desk facing the centaur. The large, rough hands stroked over his skin. They plucked at his nipples, smoothed down his flanks, and massaged his ass before slipping between his cheeks.

The blunt digit rubbed at his entrance, teasing until he begged. Harry’s hands grasped at his chest, mewling when the large finger pushed inside him. It massaged him deeply, the roughness catching and tormenting his tight heat. When it finally grazed his pleasure center, he dug his nails into the hard chest, crying out.

“I am going to bend you over this desk and fuck you. It will be hard and you will ache for days.” Firenze’s growled promise made him clench around the finger inside him.

“Yes,” he hissed. He clenched his teeth, as a second large finger slipped inside him. It stretched and pulled, and he panted thrusting back.

“No, little nymph. You have no control in this.” Firenze dipped his head to nip at his neck. “It will be my pace.” He breathed hot against the back of Harry’s neck. “You are mine.”

Harry moaned. “Please, please.” He tried not to move, but a third finger slid into him and he almost convulsed from the pleasure.

Writhing uncontrollably, he was only vaguely aware of being turned. His instincts moved him into position, presenting his ass to the dominate. Two loud thuds next to his head made him spread his legs wide. Fur grazed his back. A moment later, something large and hot, swiped across his entrance. It felt too large to fit.

Were he in his right mind, he would have been terrified. The swirl of pheromones and his instincts dulled his thinking, taking away everything but the need to submit to his dominate. He spread his legs wide, raised his ass in a silent plea to be filled. He heard Firenze chuckle a moment before he entered him.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he screamed. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, he panted. It seemed to go on forever, the steady press forward. Finally, the centaur stopped, fully sheathed inside him.

“Are you in pain?” Concern tainted his words, despite the gruff tone.

Harry shook his head hard. “Please move. I need-” he broke off with a chocked gasp, as the thickness pulled from him, dragging across his prostate with tortuous slowness.

Firenze paused, just his tip inside Harry’s body, and then thrust back in hard. Harry gripped the edge of the desk until his fingertips turned white. He dropped his head, focused on breathing past the intense pleasure that threatened to choke him. His ass clenched around the thick cock, trying in vain to hold it captive.

Every time it slid out of him, he sobbed, crying out when it returned to fill him. His raw nerves sung with his need. The scent of sex was strong in the air. Firenze’s sweat, musky and animalistic, only increased his arousal. He moaned wriggling on the desk. The wood was damp with their combined sweat.

On a forward thrust, Harry raised up to rub his back against Firenze’s body. The angle drove the centaur’s cock into his prostate hard. He cried out, collapsing forward, as his cock erupted over the desk. He moaned low in his throat, his orgasm seemingly ripped from him. When the ripples finally stopped, he felt Firenze come inside him, hot and slick.

Completely limp, he sighed softly when the centaur’s cock slipped out. Warmth spilled from him, sliding down his thighs. He shifted at a touch against his ass. He heard Firenze hum to himself, as he checked for any damage. Seemingly content with what he found, Harry felt Firenze’s warm tongue slide across his entrance.

He sighed. His relaxed body allowed the wet muscle to slip inside him, cleaning him inside as well as out. Harry closed his eyes, dozing lightly. He woke at the feel of a wet cloth cleaning his thighs. He moaned quietly in thanks.

“I’ll wake you in time for curfew,” he heard Firenze murmur in his ear, before sleep claimed him.

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Harry shifted on the bench, smiling slightly at the ache in his ass. He looked down at his food, pushing it around on his plate. It had only been two days, and already the twitch under his skin had started. He shifted again, trying to remind his body that he had been fucked recently. It did not help. He finally pushed his plate away and stood from the table.

He ignored the looks Ron and Hermione gave him. Striding from the great hall, he looked both ways. The front door beaconed. He did not question why he was so intent on going out onto the grounds. Shoving the door open, he strode off into the darkness.

He walked for twenty minutes, before he stopped at the crest of a hill. He crossed his arms, looking down at the moon drenched valley. His gaze slowly rose to the full moon and he frowned. Something nagged at the back of his mind. Dumbledore’s morning announcement had been about going out after dark, but in his distracted state he had not paid it any mind.

What had the headmaster said? He rubbed his arms and started down the hill. The large, empty meadow beaconed. Something about it made the tingle under his skin fade. His fingers rose to fiddle with the buttons of his robe. As usual, he wore nothing underneath. He bit his lip.

What was it the headmaster had said? Now that the thought was in his head, it nagged him. He continued down the hill, eyes on the ground in front of him. Something about the moon? He looked up. The moon was the only thing in the starless sky. Something rustled in the trees to his right. He froze.

When the sound did not come again, he continued forward. On flat ground, he paused to stretch. He raised his arms over his head and closed his eyes. His muscles pulled tight and he felt a twinge in his ass. His lips curved into a slight smile, as he dropped his arms. He suddenly felt eyes on him.

His eyes popped open and widened. Not ten feet away, a massive werewolf stood watching him. He froze and dropped his gaze. Staring hard at the ground in front of him, he started when the wolf was suddenly right in front of him. He stayed completely still and let it sniff at him. Snuffling at his crotch with interest, it let out a quiet growl.

Harry twitched, but otherwise did not move. After a moment, it moved around to sniff at his ass. The growl was louder. It pressed its face forward, sniffing at his balls. Harry spread his legs accommodatingly. With a sharp bark, it jumped up and pushed him down with both paws.

Harry caught himself with his hands, crouching on all fours, as the werewolf circled him. It sniffed at his hair and nipped at his robes. When he did not immediately move, it growled, the hair on the back of its neck rising in threat. Harry grabbed the hem of his robes and pulled it up over his head, dropping it to the side.

The werewolf moved forward to sniff at his chest and his unclothed crotch. Even with sharp teeth so close to him, his cock hardened. The wolf sniffed him with interest. Coming around behind him, it shoved his back until he fell onto his hands and knees, again. Harry heard his blood pumping in his ears, excitement making his breaths come faster.

A cold nose forced his ass cheeks apart and a tongue swiped at his entrance. He shivered and dropped his head forward. His ass clenched. He felt the slickness, as warm fur draped over his back. The sharp claws were pressed firmly against his chest to hold him in place. The first prod against his entrance made him moan and press back.

He received a sharp nip to his neck for the movement. He shuddered, but held still at the slow slid of the cock into him. Once in, powerful haunches drove forward until furred balls slapped his own. The knowledge that the werewolf could so easily rip him apart only increased his arousal. Sniffing loudly, the wolf seemed to smell it. It humped into him hard, shoving him into the ground, and grinding against his prostate.

Harsh cries tore from his throat, as each blow made lightening shoot down his spine. Clawing at the ground, it became too much and he came with a raw scream that echoed in the valley. The werewolf howled as his ass clamped down around its cock. It thrust roughly a few more times, and then came so hot it almost burned.

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“I saw you last night in the meadow.”

Harry froze in the hallway, slowing turning to meet Hermione’s gaze. Her expression was unreadable. He dropped his gaze.

“I was worried about you, so I followed you. You had been acting strangely.” She came closer. “Is that what you have been hiding? The mating with creatures?”

Harry looked up when there was no accusation in her tone. He nodded carefully.

“You could have talked to me about this. I read all I could find about nymphs. It’s normal for them to be attracted to forest creatures, both magical and nonmagical. You can’t help it. It’s an instinctual need.”

Harry’s eyes widened at her understanding. He nodded.

“I want you to talk to me about this stuff from now on. You’ve been very shifty for the past two weeks.”

Harry nodded and watched her start to walk away down the deserted hallway.

“By the way, Buckbeak is visiting Hagrid,” she tossed over her shoulder. “He’s in the barn.” With that, she walked down the hall and vanished around the corner.

Harry’s eyes widened. The thought of the proud, dominant male was enough to make him half hard.

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Three nights later, he crept into the dark barn. Pulling the door closed behind him, he walked down the line of stalls until he found the spacious guest stall. He peeked over the door. In the corner, Buckbeak lay sleeping, his head pointed toward the door. Harry sighed. As he started to turn away, large yellow eyes opened and fixed on him.

He immediately dropped his gaze. Faster than seemed possible, the hippogriff was on his feet and moving toward him. Harry dropped into a low bow, his neck exposed and hands visible. He looked up in time to see the hippogriff nod his head, then the door was being opened by a sharp beak. Harry gingerly stepped into the male’s stall, careful to move slowly and keep his eyes down cast. He suddenly remembered what it felt like to ride the strong creature in front of him.

He could remember the feel of the hard muscles moving between his thighs, the powerful flanks expanding and contracting with each breath. He gasped when he realized he was hard. From the interested look the hippogriff gave him, his arousal had been noticed. He stepped forward cautiously. Buckbeak blinked at him, then took a step forward to bump his beak against Harry’s stomach.

Eager and beyond shame, Harry pulled his robes over his head, standing naked and vulnerable in front of the much larger beast. Buckbeak looked him over slowly, and Harry felt a twinge of uncertainty. What if the hippogriff did not want him? His stomach clenched at the thought. As fast as the thought came, it faded.

The perusal ended with the Buckbeak nudging him toward a stack of hay bales. Harry nodded. He grabbed his robes and tossed them over the rough straw, before climbing into position. When large eagle claws settled on either side of him he spread his legs. He braced himself for the first thrust.

Slick with his own lubrication, but unstretched, he braced himself for pain. He closed his eyes, his cock rock hard even at the thought of what was coming. Instead of a hard thrust, Buckbeak’s cock rubbed against him, slipping over his entrance several times. He pressed in slowly, a very shallow thrust, then withdrew.

The cycle continued. A shallow thrust, then he was gone. Harry moaned at the teasing. His ass felt empty. It clenched and there was nothing there. He let out a soft cry at a slightly harder thrust.

“Deeper! Oh Gods, please!” He begged, trying to press back. Every time he moved, the cock withdrew and he sobbed.

“Please, please, please!” Like a mantra, he forced himself still as he repeated the plea over and over. He was rewarded with a hard thrust, and he cried out.

Hard and deep, the thrusts began to rock him against the hay bales. His cock, trapped between his body and his robes, wept precum on his stomach. His hands scrambled for anything to hold onto, finally digging into his robes, as cries fell from his lips continuously. Unable to stop himself, he screamed for more.

He knew the sound could carry, people could come looking, but he did not care. His throat was raw, his ass ached and still he begged. His release was close, so close his toes curled up and his thigh tensed in preparation.

“Harder!”

As he yelled, he imagined how he looked. His body lying over a stack of hay bales, his legs splayed wide, as Buckbeak fucked him. He imagined the hippogriffs strong thighs tensing each time he pushed into him. His mind could clearly see the large cock glistening with his slickness, as it pumped in and out of his stretched ass.

He shuddered, and his ass clamped down. When Buckbeak pulled back, he felt each ridge along his inner walls. The hippogriff pushed back in hard, punching his prostate, and Harry wailed. His orgasm rolled through him. He shuddered, feeling as if he would shake apart from the shockwaves. When it finally ended, he collapsed in exhaustion.

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“How are you adjusting, Harry?” Dumbledore looked over the rim of his glasses at him, and Harry was sure his eyes held a twinkle.

He shrugged. “Fine.”

“I understand you have chosen your mates.”

It was not a question, so Harry did not answer. He looked around the headmaster’s office. “I think they will be very helpful in fighting Voldemort,” he said carefully.

The headmaster waved him off. “I inquire for your happiness, not the coming war.”

Harry smiled slightly. “Then, yes. I have chosen very well for myself. All are leaders of large groups. They provided safety, as well as support in my dangerous life.”

“You requested to move to a cabin in the Forbidden Forest, correct?” At Harry’s nod, he handed him the signed document. “Then, I suppose I will see you when school begins again.”

Harry nodded. He stood. “Thank you, headmaster.”

“My pleasure, Harry.” He smiled. The twinkle in his eyes grew. “Or shall I call you ‘Professor Potter’?”
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Harry Potter and the Beastly Harem