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Brooms and Cock ch.2
🕑 Added 2023-12-09 19:00:05 +0000 UTCBefore she disappeared into the crowd, she cast a heated glance over her shoulder. However, her earlier anger had vanished, replaced by a more searching look as her eyes swept over Harry. She whispered something to her assistant, and the young woman blushed angrily when her gaze met Harry's. But when Harry furrowed his brow, Eleonora simply laughed and disappeared into the crowd.
"I don't want to keep you, sir," the funeral director interjected, "but we were wondering if you'd like to offer some final words before we close the casket."
"I would. Yes, thank you," Harry replied before turning to Hermione, who stood patiently at his side. "We should connect soon." The petite woman nodded in gratitude, offering a formal bow as Harry allowed the director to lead him to the back. "My mother mentioned you wanted to discuss something with me?"
"Yes, of course," he said with undisguised solemnity, opening the casket. "As you can see, your father will rest in the most luxurious casket we have. But if you want to ensure he has the most peaceful sleep possible, I cannot recommend the silk shroud package enough."
Harry furrowed his brow at the man, who remained oblivious to the growing anger within him and continued with his offer. The strange shift in behavior now made sense, and Harry bit his tongue, feeling a touch of foolishness. The man was a lamb as long as his clients weren't at their most vulnerable, and then he turned into a wolf. Harry had to reluctantly acknowledge the audacity, if not the attempt to extract more money from him.
"Your mother was too distraught, you know how women are," he whispered aside. "To make a decision, but such a fine young man as yourself would only want the best for his father. You know, I was at one of your father's shows when I was a boy. It was the most incredible spectacle I'd ever seen and made me fall in love with cars and their culture... Shouldn't Harry Potter move on to the afterlife in the wealth and comfort he was accustomed to in life? I know if I had a son who truly loved me..."
"That's enough," came the clipped, northeastern-accented interruption, carrying the authoritative tone of a woman accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed.
Turning around, Harry saw his grandmother entering the room. Grandma Potter looked more like Harry's father's older sister than his stepmother. Hailing from a wealthy family in England, Grandma Potter had chosen to forego her family's elixir production and maritime transport business for charity work.
"If you're trying to sell Harry during the funeral, perhaps I should arrange a reception elsewhere?" she suggested.
"That won't be necessary, ma'am," the director said, waving his hands, trying to mollify Grandma Potter's cold anger. "I just wanted to inform the young man of the available options. If you both would excuse me, I think I hear my embalmer calling."
The hatchet-faced man smiled apologetically as he slipped out of the room, but the smile quickly vanished as he went out of sight, and Harry could hear his muttered curses as he retreated to the back of the building. "Everyone eventually reveals their true colors," Harry thought, observing the man's exit.
"I didn't know you would come," Harry said, feeling a lump in his throat and choking back the words before emotions could overwhelm him.
The woman's face softened, and she approached him, enveloping him in a warm hug. Grandma Potter hadn't been a constant presence during Harry's upbringing, but the distance between them seemed to vanish as her loving arms wrapped around him, and he began to shed tears on her shoulder.
"I miss him too," she whispered in his ear, her warm breath tickling the sensitive flesh on his neck. "But he wouldn't want us to be sad, not today. Let's go there and celebrate your dad's life, what do you say?
Feeling embarrassed with his tears, he pulled away and I wiped my eyes dry, but Grandma Potter smiled warmly. She released her grip on his back, but did not loosen the arm that held him close, and he felt a little uncomfortable when he realized how low cut her black dress was. The sight of all that flesh stretching down to her deep cleavage made his heart beat faster and filled him with shame at the thoughts that were emerging.
"Thank you," he said. "I don't know where it came from."
"It came from grief and love," she said, her arm tightened around his back, and her heavy, soft breasts pressed against Harry's in a way he was all too aware of. He tried to move to the side to hide the lump forming in his crotch, but there was little room and his cheeks heated up as he felt his stiffness pressing into her hip. "You never have to be embarrassed or ashamed in front of me.... Nothing."
The woman's dark green eyes were soft with emotion, but the corner of her mouth twisted in a grimace as her fingers traveled down Harry Potter's chest and stomach.
"Kate will need you in the coming months. We can't let her fall back into old habits. I might stick around for a few weeks and make sure everything goes smoothly. I'll make sure the company is in good hands. What do you think?" Her long fingernails stopped on his belt buckle, and he felt his cheeks turn a darker shade of red as he tried to look her in the eye. "Would you like me to be around to.... help you with anything you need?
"Sure," replied Harry, slamming his back against the wall.
He took a few steps back, but Grandma Potter moved behind him. He found himself pressed against the back wall of the small room, unsure of what to do. Part of him wanted to run away, fearing he would say or do the wrong thing and ruin their relationship, but a larger part of him lost himself in teenage fantasies about this sexy woman. She didn't visit often, but when she did, Harry found it hard to take his eyes off her chic clothes and figure maintained by several personal trainers. She had always been more like a cool aunt than a grandmother, and he had spent too many hours daydreaming about her massive breasts and thick lips to be comfortable with her pressed so close to him.
"We should discuss your plans for the Company.... I have some ideas that might be helpful," he said. There was a heat in the woman's eyes that dried Harry's mouth and made his palms sweat. "Stop by my hotel room tomorrow and we can talk," he said.
"Harry, are you here?"
Harry Potter turned and saw Amelia peering from around the corner, searching for someone. She hadn't noticed Harry and his grandmother, Mrs. Potter, who were discreetly pressed against the wall. When Amelia's gaze finally landed on them, Mrs. Potter stepped back, smoothing her dress, her expression revealing nothing of the previous moment.
"Your mother is looking for you," Amelia said, admiring Mrs. Potter. "They're about to start. Should I tell them you'll be back in a moment?"
"We were just finishing up," Mrs. Potter replied, quickly leaving the room and pausing only to say to Harry, "Room 421. See you tomorrow."
Amelia, concern etched on her face, turned to Harry. His gaze followed Mrs. Potter, observing her graceful exit. "Is everything okay? Do you need me?"
Harry noticed that Amelia's focus seemed to be on his lower half, and her intentions were clear. When he understood her suggestion, embarrassment washed over him. "No, let's just leave it," he muttered.
Amelia's face fell slightly, a shadow of sadness appearing on her features. However, she quickly regained composure, leading Harry out with a cheerful expression. "I know you didn't choose your father's company, but he hoped you'd take it over."
"I know," Harry admitted, lost in thoughts of his father's unspoken expectations. He was on the cusp of adulthood, but his life had been put on hold due to his father's illness and the associated responsibilities.
As Harry prepared for the service in the chapel, Kate waited for him with anxiety and anticipation in her eyes. They walked in together, and their entrance hushed the murmuring crowd as the pastor began his sermon.
Harry Potter, not particularly religious, was deeply moved by the master of ceremonies' words about loyalty and faith during the funeral service. The master of ceremonies, a racing enthusiast, shared fond memories of Harry's father, reinforcing the solemn atmosphere. Others also spoke, reminiscing about Harry's father's charitable work and his kindness as an employer, filling Harry's heart with a mixture of pride and sorrow.
The tribute from Amelia, reflecting her early years working for Harry's father, struck a particularly emotional chord, bringing tears to Kate, Harry's stepmother. Harry wasn't aware of the depth of feelings between Amelia and Kate until he saw them hugging and whispering to each other, and Amelia sent him a meaningful smile over Kate's shoulder.
When Kate returned to her seat, her presence comforted Harry. Her hip was pressed against his, she held his hand on her lap, intertwining her warm fingers with his. Harry, still a teenager but physically as mature as the men around him, was acutely aware of Kate's closeness.
The funeral, lasting about an hour, was a mix of grief and heightened emotions for Harry. His grandmother's speech was particularly touching. She acknowledged the pain of loss but also celebrated her son's love of life, his passion for cars, brooms and his fondness for women, eliciting a gentle laugh from the mourners. She praised Kate, recognizing the strong partnership she had with Harry's father, and expressed her pride in Harry, causing him to blush under the gaze of the gathered mourners. Kate, drawing even closer, rested her head on Harry's shoulder.
Harry Potter's grandmother concluded her speech, encouraging everyone to live life to the fullest, just as her son had done, a sentiment that deeply resonated with Harry and the assembled guests, leaving a lasting impression of strength and love.
Harry Potter pondered his grandmother Potter's words amid mundane conversations about school and life. Several times, he tried to pull his stepmother, Kate, away from the bar, but to no avail. Her intoxication had reached a point where Harry had to ask Amelia to take her home.
"I'm perfectly fine!" Kate exclaimed loudly, drawing attention. Her pointed accusation, emphasized by a sharp fingernail against Harry's chest, made it difficult for him to suppress his irritation. Kate's occasional bouts of drunkenness always revealed her more volatile and irritable side.
"I'm not trying to tell you anything, Kate," Harry began, but her slurred words cut him off.
As Kate's emotional swings became too erratic to keep up with, Harry looked helplessly at Amelia. Amelia, apologetic but uninvolved in the drama, helped escort Kate away from the wake.
The comforting touch of the woman on Harry's shoulder drew his attention to Fleur, one of the sisters he had met earlier. She and her sister, Gabrielle, had suggested the enigmatic presence of many beautiful, powerful women at the wake, each with seemingly dark pasts.
Harry, initially incredulous, looked at the crowd with new interest and realized the truth in their observations. The wake was unusually populated by attractive women of various ages and backgrounds, engaging in hushed tones.
Fleur, with a twinkle in her eye, playfully suggested that Harry could take on his father's role, and her words trailed off suggestively. "Shoes," Fleur whispered, and her laughter echoed as she and her sister walked away, leaving Harry pondering the intriguing implications of their words.
In Harry Potter's mind, confusion swirled as he returned to his home, a grand estate that was one of the largest in the city. The house, resembling a luxurious mansion, featured a separate living quarters for the staff and extensive gardens spanning three acres. Harry's room, exceptionally located on the second floor, was part of his exclusive wing in the vast mansion.
Upon arriving home, Harry entered through a side entrance, his thoughts still immersed in the events of the previous day. Once in his room, he quickly shed his suit and collapsed onto his bed, attempting to suppress the overwhelming sadness. However, a sharp object beneath his pillow brought him back to alertness. Rising to his feet, he discovered a thick manila envelope that hadn't been there before.
Harry knew that Molly, the housekeeper, often visited his room, but the layer of dust on the mantelpiece indicated she hadn't been there for several days. The envelope, made of expensive, heavy paper, concealed something important inside, its contents hidden from view.
Upon opening the envelope, a heavy brass key clanked, immediately capturing Harry's attention. His heart raced as he recognized his father's handwriting on the letter inside the envelope. With trembling hands, Harry carefully extracted the thick paper, unfolding it to uncover its secrets.
