Chapter 1: The Spell of Submission
The air in the Gryffindor common room was thick with the scent of old parchment and the faint crackle of the fire that danced in the hearth. Harry Potter, now in his final year at Hogwarts, sat hunched over an ancient tome he’d pilfered from the Restricted Section. His emerald eyes glinted with a mix of curiosity and something darker—something primal. The book, bound in cracked leather, whispered of spells long forbidden, and one in particular had caught his attention: *Imperius Subservio*, a charm to bend another’s will to his own. A smirk curled his lips as he traced the incantation with a trembling finger. This wasn’t just magic. This was power.
He’d been restless for weeks, his body aching with a hunger he couldn’t name, a heat that no amount of Quidditch practice could burn away. And now, with this spell, he could have what he wanted—who he wanted. His mind flickered to Molly Weasley, the matriarch of the Burrow, with her warm, maternal smile and a body that, despite her apron and sensible cardigans, couldn’t hide its voluptuous allure. Those full, heavy breasts straining against her blouse, the curve of her wide hips, the way her ass swayed when she bustled about the kitchen—it had haunted his dreams for months. He gripped his wand tighter, the wood almost pulsing under his fingers as he whispered the incantation under his breath, testing its weight on his tongue.
The opportunity came sooner than expected. A weekend visit to the Burrow, under the guise of helping with some household charms, brought him face-to-face with Molly in the cozy, flour-dusted kitchen. She was alone, her auburn hair tied back in a messy bun, strands curling around her flushed cheeks as she kneaded dough with strong, capable hands. Her apron did little to conceal the swell of her chest, each movement making her breasts bounce slightly, the fabric of her dress clinging to the generous curve of her waist and the roundness of her hips. Harry’s mouth went dry, his cock twitching in his trousers as he watched her, unnoticed for the moment.
‘Harry, dear, didn’t hear you come in!’ Molly’s voice was warm, honeyed, as she turned to face him, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes, a soft brown, sparkled with maternal affection, but Harry saw something else there—a vulnerability he could exploit. ‘Fancy a cuppa before we get started on those wards?’
‘Actually, Mrs. Weasley,’ Harry drawled, stepping closer, his voice low and laced with intent. He raised his wand subtly, the tip glowing faintly as he murmured the spell under his breath. ‘I’ve got something else in mind. *Imperius Subservio.*’
Molly’s eyes glazed over for a split second, her posture stiffening before relaxing into something pliant, almost eager. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as she looked at him with a new, hungry intensity. ‘What… what do you need, Harry?’ Her voice was different now, husky, dripping with an unspoken promise.
‘Oh, I think you know,’ Harry replied, his grin wicked as he closed the distance between them. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her warm, freckled skin. ‘You’ve been driving me mad, Molly. All those curves, that body… I can’t stop thinking about you. And now, you’re going to give me exactly what I want.’
Molly’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly, those heavy breasts heaving under the thin fabric of her dress. Up close, Harry could see every detail—the way her skin flushed pink at her throat, the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone, the way her nipples hardened, pressing against the material. She was a vision of raw, untamed femininity, her body a landscape of lush valleys and peaks he was desperate to explore. ‘Harry,’ she whispered, her voice trembling but not with fear—with need. ‘I… I can’t help myself. Tell me what to do.’
‘That’s more like it,’ he purred, his hand sliding down to cup her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His other hand found her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, feeling the give of her curves under his touch. ‘You’re mine now, Molly. Every inch of you. And I’m going to take my time.’
Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping her lips as his words washed over her, the spell weaving deeper into her mind. Harry’s pulse raced, his cock now painfully hard in his trousers, straining against the fabric as he pressed himself closer to her. He could feel the heat of her body through their clothes, the way her full thighs brushed against his, the promise of her wet, dripping pussy just out of reach. His hands roamed lower, gripping her ass, kneading the plump flesh with a possessive hunger. ‘Fuck, you’re perfect,’ he growled, his voice rough with lust. ‘I’ve wanted to grab this ass for so long.’
Molly’s hands trembled as they reached for him, fingers brushing against his chest, tentative but desperate. ‘Harry, please,’ she breathed, her voice thick with desire. ‘I’m so… so horny for you. I can’t think straight.’
‘Good,’ he shot back, his smirk widening as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. ‘Because I’m not done with you yet. I’m going to make you sweat, make you pant, make you beg for my cock. And you’re going to love every second of it.’
He pulled back just enough to tug at the ties of her apron, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. His hands were on her dress next, yanking it up over her hips to reveal the creamy expanse of her thighs and the lacy edge of her knickers. His breath caught at the sight of her, all soft, yielding flesh and hidden promises. He could see the damp spot on the fabric, proof of how wet she was already, and it sent a jolt of raw need through him. ‘Look at you,’ he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. ‘Already soaking for me. You want this as bad as I do, don’t you?’
Molly nodded, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her lips parted as she struggled to find words. ‘Yes, Harry. I… I need it. I need you.’
That was all the invitation he needed. With a swift movement, he spun her around, pressing her against the kitchen counter, her ass jutting out toward him as he ground his hard cock against her. The friction was maddening, a tease of what was to come, and he groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding up to cup her heavy breasts through her dress. They were even fuller than he’d imagined, spilling over his palms, the weight of them driving him wild. He could feel her nipples, hard as pebbles, under his thumbs, and he pinched them lightly, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips.
‘Fuck, Molly,’ he hissed, his breath hot against her neck as he nipped at her skin. ‘I’m going to take you apart. I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming my name, until you’re dripping with my cum. You ready for that?’
Her response was a whimper, her body arching back against him, desperate for more. Harry’s hands moved with purpose now, one sliding down to slip beneath her knickers, finding her pussy slick and ready, the other tugging at the neckline of her dress to free those magnificent tits. He was sweating now, his heart pounding as he prepared to claim her fully, to lose himself in the heat of her body. The kitchen, once a place of warmth and comfort, was about to become the stage for something far more primal, far more explosive.
And Harry Potter, with a spell of submission at his command, was only just getting started.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.