A Star Is Born Chapter 14 (Patreon)

Chapter 14 (Behind Closed Doors)

Hannah didn't offer any explanation as to where they were going, instead dragging him by the hand with a playful urgency through the familiar back hallways of the Leaky Cauldron. She bypassed the shadowed corners of the hallway and stopped at the first door, turning the brass handle and leading him inside.

Despite the hallways being antiquated and slightly drafty, the room they entered was a revelation of modern wizarding comfort. It was a spacious loft, expertly designed to maximize every inch of the floor plan; it featured a full-sized kitchen, a small living room area, and a bedroom space all integrated into one seamless environment. A sturdy dining room table, a bed topped with a thick duvet, and a small mahogany desk supporting a sleek wireless set constituted the extent of the furniture. The space felt remarkably cozy, appearing almost entirely new in terms of its sleek appliances and contemporary furniture, providing a stark contrast to the historical exterior of the pub.

Hannah stepped further into the center of the room and drew her wand. With a graceful, practiced flick, candles nestled in wall sconces flared to life, and enchanted overhead lights turned on, bathing the loft in a soft, welcoming glow. “Welcome to my home, Harry,” she said, her voice dropping to a warmer, more intimate tone as she turned back to him, pulling her hair out of its bun. “This is where I stay most nights when the rush of the Alley is too much to leave behind. Occasionally I go home to Abbott Manor, but this place is mine—my own little sanctuary. I am planning to eventually renovate the rest of the guest rooms to this standard, but for now, this is my model and my retreat.”

“I love it,” Harry said simply.

“It also has a pretty extensive collection of Firewhiskey I brought from home. Lucky for us,” Hannah joked with a playful smirk, her exhaustion from the Saturday night shift seemingly replaced by a spark of mischief. She plopped down at the circular dining table, the wood gleaming under the soft candlelight she had just summoned. With a casual flick of her wand, two heavy crystal tumblers glided through the air from the kitchen counter, settling gently on the table beside her.

She uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop, the sharp, spicy aroma of aged Firewhiskey immediately filling the small loft with a magical drift. With a slight gesture of her hand, she offered Harry an invitation to join her. As Harry took his seat opposite her, a separate, effortless flick of her wand ignited the wireless set on her desk. The room was soon filled with the low, melodic crooning of a jazz-influenced wizarding band, the smooth notes perfectly complementing the intimate atmosphere of the loft.

“I heard you were injured in the game tonight?” Hannah asked with a tone of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Nothing a little firewhiskey and rest won’t cure,” Harry assured, picking up the glass she offered to him with her magic. “It was a tough game though. Much more competitive than what we faced in Tutshill…they almost had us.”

“It sounded like a proper fight over the wireless,” Hannah agreed, her expression still holding a lingering excitement. She leaned back in her chair kicking up her feet on the opposite chair. “I had the wireless on behind the bar the whole time. Your new fan club, the one you bought drinks for the other night, and I were listening to every second of it; it was an absolute eruption in here when the commentator announced you’d caught the Snitch and ended it.” 

She poured a generous measure of the amber liquid into both glasses, the heavy scent of the aged Firewhiskey swirling between them. “The regulars were nearly as stressed as you sounded. Every time the Appleby Beaters made a run at you, the whole pub went silent. I think Old Tom’s portraits were ready to jump out of their frames from the tension.”

Harry took a cautious sip, feeling the familiar burn slide down his throat and immediately start to dull the sharp ache in his ankle. “It felt like it, too. They don't just want the win, they want to leave a mark on you while they get it,” he admitted, his mind flashing back to the game. “If it hadn't been for Wood and our Beaters, I might be celebrating this win from a much less comfy bed in St. Mungo’s.”

Hannah reached across the table, her fingers grazing his hand with a comforting smile. “Well, in this room, the only thing you have to worry about is finishing that glass. You earned it,” she said with a small, intimate smile that made the roar of the crowd and the flash of the press cameras feel a lifetime away.

Sighing, but smiling at the feeling Hannah gave him, he squeezed her hand. “I think it was the post-game that has me a little more on edge than the game itself did. Did you all hear what happened in the press conference?”

“I only got glimpses,” Hannah admitted. “It was pretty rowdy for a bit after the game, but I caught on to the fact that they waived Jackman. Sounds like he was an arse anyways. Terry of course said nothing but nice things about you, and ragged a bit on your former teammate before it was all over.”

“I guess now I only have to worry about what my own teammates think,” Harry said, lifting his glass in the air with a bit of wandless magic, and swirling the liquid inside slowly, allowing his magic to distract him a bit from his wandering mind.

“You know Oliver will always have your back,” Hannah assured him, her voice steady and anchoring. “The rest of them, they just don’t know you, Harry. Not the real you. They’ve probably only heard the legends and the rumors—the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior. That’s a lot of shadow to stand in, and even harder for them to stand up next to.”

She paused, tracing the rim of her glass thoughtfully. “Think about it from their perspective. Other than Pucey, all your current teammates were long gone from Hogwarts, or wherever else they went, years before we even started our time at school. They didn’t see you in the hallways or at the Gryffindor table. For the last five years, they have had nothing but the Daily Prophet to provide your character profile, and we both know how skewed that can be. To them, you’re a headline, not a teammate…not yet,” she continued, watching the floating glass in fascination before adding, “They see the first overall pick, the blockbuster trade that cost the franchise their future draft picks and players like Benjy Williams and Wilda Griffiths. That brings a lot of scrutiny. It’s going to take more than a few caught Snitches for them to see the man behind the mask, but once they do—once they see the teammate who stays late and bleeds for the win—they’ll come around. It even took our friends at school some years to warm up to you, but look where we all ended up, fighting side by side for the future of our world. Just give them time to catch up to the reality of Harry Potter, rather than the myth.”

Taking in the witch's words for a long moment, Harry continued to swirl his glass around with mindless effort. Her words warmed him and tempered his expectations at the same time. It felt like exactly what he needed to hear. “That’s a really good perspective. I hope you’re right.” 

“I am almost certain I am,” Hannah said, snatching his glass out of the air, and placing it on the table back in front of him. “I’ve gained a lot of wisdom listening to all these storytellers in the Cauldron. Trust me.”

“I do,” Harry promised, making the girl smile. “Tell me about the rest of your day at the Cauldron, you had the chance to hear mine in real time.”

Hannah shrugged with a nonchalant manner, and delved into the details of her more rowdy customers after the game, and even a minor skirmish earlier between two wizards who were having a disagreement. Apparently Hannah never discovered what they were quarreling about, but drew her wand to put an end to it.

“Sounds exciting,” Harry said with a laugh. “They had no idea who they were messing with.”

“You taught me literally everything I know,” Hannah countered. “I would’ve had them both tied in knots for the Aurors to pick up.”

As Hannah had talked about her day, Harry had polished off his glass, and any lingering pain he had in his ankle was long gone. By the time they had started their second glass, the conversation flitted around to their friends, their families, and then back to themselves. He found himself watching Hannah as she spoke as they drifted into comfortable reminiscences of their time at Hogwarts, comparing notes on professors they had both endured and the strange, quiet moments of their shared history.

“Come on, Harry, you can tell me! I told you my family comes from money, so you don’t have to worry about me being a gold digger. I genuinely have no idea how much a rookie Quidditch

player makes. I think I heard Gwenog Jones is the highest paid player in our country and the rumor is she is getting paid around 5 million galleons a year, but I know Krum is getting paid tens of millions for being the best player in the world,” Hannah said with interest.

Harry let out a low whistle, the firewhiskey providing a comfortable warmth that made the financial discussion feel less like a deposition and more like a shared confidence. “Jones and Krum are in a league of their own. I’m definitely not pulling in ‘Best in the World’ numbers,” he admitted with a shrug. “But Puddlemere went all out to get me. Between the signing bonus and the base salary, I know I am north of a million galleons, which is significantly more than I ever expected to see from playing a game.”

He leaned in slightly, putting an arm around the witch, as he thought back to the negotiations Ron had handled. “Ron actually felt we left a lot of money on the table because Tutshill was prepared to pay even more, but Puddlemere is where the heart is. Even so, for a rookie, I am really happy with it.”

Hannah raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed but not surprised. “Well, considering the franchise traded away their future just to see you in a navy and gold jersey, I’d hope they’re filling your pockets as much as they are their own. I am sure you are the top-selling rookie Quidditch robe of all time,” she teased, reaching out to clink her glass against his. “To the most expensive rookie in the league then, you are going to prove you are worth every penny.”

Harry clinked his glass against hers, and took a long sip, the liquid warmth of the Firewhiskey blooming in his chest. He reached into his robe pocket, his fingers brushing against the cool, familiar metal of his latest prize. With a small, conspiratorial smile, he pulled out a little golden ball, its delicate wings tucked tightly against its sides.

“Speaking of being worth every penny,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as he held the Snitch out between them. The enchanted ball shivered in his palm, as if sensing the magic permeating the cozy loft. “I brought this for you. After all this talk about you being a big Quidditch fan, and letting me take over your Thursday night unannounced, I felt like I should dedicate the win to you. This isn't just a trophy; it's a thank you for keeping me grounded.”

Hannah’s eyes widened, the candlelight reflecting in her light blue eyes as she stared at the golden orb. She didn't reach for it immediately; instead, she looked up at Harry, a soft, genuine warmth replacing the mischievous spark from earlier. “Harry, you can't just give away your game-winning Snitches,” she whispered, though she couldn't hide the impressed curve of her lips. “That belongs in a case at Puddlemere, or at the very least, on your mantle next to your Order of Merlin.”

“Puddlemere has enough trophies, and my first catch sits on my mantle,” Harry countered, gently taking her hand and closing her fingers around the cool gold. The Snitch hummed against her skin, a low vibration that seemed to sync with the jazz melodies floating from the wireless set. “And I’d much rather it be here, I am not sure I would’ve kept my head on straight without you this week. Consider it a gift for sharing your family's firewhiskey with me too.”

Hannah laughed, knowing the last part was offered in jest, as she tucked the Snitch carefully into the pocket of her own robes. “Well, in that case, I gratefully accept, and will remember to keep bribing you with alcohol,” she teased, leaning back into the curve of his arm.

Harry pulled the girl into him as he gripped her hand that had reached out for his own, and kissed her softly. The kiss deepened quickly as the quiet music from the wireless set and the lingering spice of the Firewhiskey created an atmosphere of easy intimacy. Harry guided Hannah over to the couch, and she took her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his messy hair, while Harry’s free hand settled firmly against the small of her back, drawing her flush against him.

Hannah eventually pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his, her breath hitching slightly. A small, playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips, the kind of expression that reminded Harry why he felt so grounded in her presence. “You know,” she whispered, her voice a warm murmur in the dimly lit loft, “if you keep kissing me like that, you might find yourself in trouble.”

Harry let out a low, breathy chuckle, his eyes locked onto hers. “I always manage to find it somehow,” he admitted, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle against her waist. “Might as well enjoy it for once.”

Lemon Start (Can Skip)

Taking a seat on the couch, Harry pulled Hannah on top of him, guiding one of her knees to either side of his hips. She settled astride him, her bare feet hooking behind his legs as his hands came to rest on her upper thighs. Harry held her gaze the entire time, enjoying the playful confidence he found staring back at him.

She was still dressed in the dirndl she had worn throughout her shift at the Cauldron, leaving Harry looking up at her with the corseted neckline directly in front of him. Rather than rushing to tear the clothes from her, he took his time, pressing soft kisses against every bit of exposed skin he could reach while his hands traveled slowly along her bare legs and disappeared beneath her skirt.

Hannah leaned back with a soft moan, pressing herself closer as Harry continued kissing every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Her breasts weren't particularly large, but the tight corset of the dirndl pushed them together in a way Harry found incredibly enticing. His hands continued their exploration beneath her skirt until they reached her ass, where he discovered little more than a thin strip of underwear beneath his fingers.

Harry was about to tease her that she had clearly prepared for him to have his way with her when Hannah suddenly pushed herself off his lap. For half a second, he wondered if he'd done something wrong. Then she dropped to her knees between his legs and began impatiently tugging at his trousers, answering the question before he could ask it.

His bulge immediately spoke to his excitement over the thought, a physical testament to the heat building between them. He watched with lust-filled eyes, his breath hitching in his chest as she managed to maneuver his trousers down to his ankles. He surrendered to the sensation, laying back across the cushions of the couch, finding himself perfectly positioned with her face inches away from his painfully erect penis. Glancing down at her, he found her looking back, their eyes locking for a brief, electric moment of mutual understanding. Without breaking the connection, she reached out, gripping him firmly in one hand, and taking his manhood into her mouth. He let out a low groan as she slowly began to glide down his shaft, using the rhythmic motion of both her hand and her mouth to drive him toward the edge of his self-control.

Without breaking contact, Hannah shifted into a more comfortable position, stretching herself across the couch as Harry watched with transfixed eyes. She rested her weight on her elbows, her legs crossed casually behind her, looking almost impossibly relaxed as she continued.

The sensation was incredible, and before long he could hardly control himself. His hand found its way into her hair, his fingers tightening as his restraint began to slip. 

The gagging sounds she made were music to his ears. He was mesmerized by her movements and sounds, and when he wrenched her away from his dick, she looked at him with a hungry look he had not seen on their first night together.

Hannah rose slowly and slipped out of her dirndl, leaving herself dressed in nothing but a tiny set of black lingerie. She stared Harry down with a confidence he never would have expected from the quiet Hufflepuff he remembered from school, removing the last pieces one at a time before casually kicking them aside. 

A long hot second passed where Harry felt fire pour through his veins. Then he reached out and gently wrapped his hand behind her back, pulling her into a kiss. Hannah immediately returned the kiss before jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. Harry caught her easily, one arm supporting her weight as she clung tightly to his shoulders. He lined up his manhood to penetrate her. With a slow, deliberate push that seemed to bridge the gap between anticipation and reality, Harry fully entered her. Hannah let out a throaty, guttural moan that echoed off the loft’s walls as she broke the kiss, her head falling back. She stared up at the ceiling in a trance of pure pleasure, as Harry began to bounce her up and down.

Harry didn’t waste any time establishing a pace. Using his strength and endurance, he lifted the girl up and down, and her fingernails began dragging across his back as sharp gasps of pleasure tore from her throat.

After a minute of using the girl's momentum to pleasure her, he gently laid her back down on the couch, reached down and wrapped his arm firmly through one of her legs, hooking her knee and pushing it up over his shoulder to deepen their connection. Picking up a steady, primal rhythm, he began slipping in and out of her with an intensity that left them both breathless. Every thrust was met with a fresh wave of passion-filled moans from Hannah, her voice rising in approval as she arched her back to meet him.

With his free hand, he slipped it between her legs, and began rubbing slow circles around the top point of her pussy, making her moan louder than he had ever heard before. Her sounds drove him wild as he began to pump in and out of her a little faster, and the circles he was creating with his hand turned into more of a rapid back and forth motion against her clit. The friction was electric, and Hannah arched her back as the intensity peaked. Each breathy gasp she released fueled his own growing desire, making the air in the small, modern loft feel thick with heat and the lingering scent of Firewhiskey.

The moment was so intense Harry had to give her a warning, “I’m gonna cum, Hannah.”

“Rub me faster, Harry. Make me cum too,” Hannah pleaded.

Her begging nearly undid him, but he fought against it, and did his best to jerk his hand back and forth faster against her clit, causing her to shake in pleasure. His knees buckled as he pulled out of her at the last moment, but continued to rub her down with one hand and stroke himself with the other, leading to an eruption across her belly.

Hannah let out a final groan, as her legs trembled with pleasure, and watched through half-lidded eyes as his seed spilled across her. Of all the things she could’ve done, she just laughed, and took a deep breath. “Merlin, Harry, that was amazing. Our first time was good, but I think I definitely prefer when all of your attention is on me.”

Rolling on her side she reached for her wand and cleaned herself off, before rising to her feet, and offering him a soft kiss on the lips. “One last drink, and we should get you some rest.”

Watching Hannah saunter back toward the dining table, Harry made absolutely no attempt to hide where his eyes wandered. She still had the athletic figure he remembered from their school days, though there was a confidence in the way she carried herself now that the quiet Hufflepuff girl he'd known at Hogwarts had never possessed. The enchanted sconces caught the curve of her hips as she leaned across the table for the Firewhiskey, and Harry found himself staring all over again. 

Groaning, he sighed, standing up from the couch, and coming up behind her, he pressed himself against her, and wrapped his arms around her. “I think I want more.”

Turning around with two partially filled glasses, she offered him a teasing smile. “I can see that.”

Harry took the glass out of her hand, placed it back on the table, and lifted her off the ground and placed her straight on the table, using wandless magic to gently push everything out of his way as he leaned her back against the table, and bending down between her legs to put his face in her womanhood, immediately using his tongue to taste her. Hannah let out a sharp, surprised gasp as her back hit the polished wood, her fingers instantly finding Harry's messy dark hair to pull him closer. The cool surface of the dining table was a stark contrast to the sudden, blooming heat of his mouth against her skin. He worked with a hungry, focused intensity, his tongue tracing her every curve as he sought to draw out every sound of pleasure she was capable of making. Hannah arched her back, her breath coming in short, ragged hitches that echoed through the quiet loft, the melodic jazz from the wireless fading into the background of her own mounting desire. Every flick of his tongue and press of his lips sent fresh jolts of electricity through her, making her legs tremble faster than before where they draped over his shoulders. Harry didn't let up, his hands gripping her thighs firmly to hold her in place as he continued his intimate assault.

Harry had intended this to be their last round, but judging by Hannah's reaction beneath him, neither of them seemed particularly interested in slowing down yet.

“Harry, please,” Hannah moaned out, rubbing her breast with her hands now.

Not wasting another second, Harry stood and gripped Hannah by the waist, gently but firmly turning her over so she was leaning face down against the sturdy mahogany dining table. He pulled her close, helping her find her footing on the floor.

Harry positioned himself behind her, and placed his hands on her hips as she grabbed the edges of the table to brace herself. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed right back inside of her, filling her. He slipped inside easily, his own saliva acting as a slick lubricant that eased his re-entry and deepened the friction of their renewed connection. The two shared several moans as Harry pistoned in and out of her.

Their movements reached a fever pitch, a powerful crescendo of synchronized rhythm and breath as the two released cries of pleasure. As Hannah released a final, breathless cry, Harry withdrew from between her trembling legs just in time, catching his release in his hand to avoid a mess. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder while they slowly regained their breath in the peaceful, music-filled loft; a satisfied groan escaping him.

Afterward, the loft returned to its peaceful state, the lingering jazz melody playing softly against the quiet ticking of the room. Harry guided her away from the table, and they settled into the soft embrace of the bed. Hannah curled into his side, her head resting on his chest, and he traced patterns on her arm, listening to the rhythmic beat of her heart slowing to match his own.

"You were right," Harry murmured, his voice heavy with a contentment he hadn't felt capable of finding in a long time. He pulled the thick duvet up around them, shielding them from the drafty reality of the hallways outside. "I think I'll be sleeping quite well tonight." Hannah hummed in agreement, already drifting toward sleep, and as the lights dimmed with a final wave of her wand, Harry closed his eyes, pulling her body to him as comfortably as he could.

(A/N) One day I will definitely write a full Hannah X Harry story. I just love how easy it is to write the kind hearted Hufflepuff with Harry. Current Chapter status listed below, see you guys soon!

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