Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, and concepts belong to J.K. Rowling and the respective copyright holders. I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.
All original characters (OC), plotlines, and additional world-building elents are my own creations.
This fanfic doesn't start as porn-with-plot — the story and character growth co first.But don't get it twisted. Who said I can't flip the switch into porn and plot the second it actually fits?I'm just not stuffing an R18 scene into chapter one for shock value — that's not my style.When it's ti, I'll go all in. No restraint.
And in case you're wondering:Yes, there are already two smut chapters.• One is public• One is in the advanced chapters on Patreon
More will drop naturally — and they'll hit harder because they're earned.
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Jon Gasper always used to say he wasn't a huge Harry Potter fan — but his room told a very different story. A pristine first edition of the series sat proudly on the corner of his shelf, while the rest of it was cramd with toy figurines of the Golden Trio, Dumbledore, Voldemort, and his Death Eaters.
Posters of Emma Watson as Hermione and glossy prints of the trio from the movies covered nearly every inch of his bedroom walls.
His obsession—cough… interest—in Harry Potter didn't interfere with daily life. An above-average student with excellent grades, Jon had managed to get into a good college, conveniently only a few blocks away from ho.
This ant he could co back anyti for his mom's spaghetti.
He also took his fitness seriously—not a gym junkie by any ans, but push-ups, pull-ups, running, and Calisthenics were a natural part of his daily routine.
When Jon's parents threw a celebratory party for his college admission, he wasn't exactly thrilled. Being an introvert, he hated dealing with relatives, preferring to lock himself in his room and ga whenever family gatherings happened.
After a polite round of greetings and telling everyone to enjoy the food, Jon tried to sneak back into his room. Unfortunately, the hallway betrayed him.
His mother appeared from the opposite side, ard with her trusty slipper raised in her hand. One look at that slipper was enough to make Jon reconsider.
With a forced smile plastered on his face, he obediently rejoined the party.
A week later, Jon officially enrolled and moved into his dorm to experience "college life." He quickly bonded with his new roommates, who were going to share the sa space for four long years.
Since classes hadn't started yet, the group decided to celebrate their free ti at a gaming café.
The ga of choice? Greed of Legend — a wildly popular online multiplayer that had dominated the gaming world for a decade. Despite its horrendous monetization sches, people remained addicted.
The company's overpriced skins were practically daylight robbery, and the ga had been surrounded by endless controversy, often called a blatant rip-off of Doda, another famous MOBA.
But for Jon and his friends, none of that mattered. They just wanted to trash-talk each other, enjoy the ga, and win.
Inside the café, the gang claid a corner of the room and spread into their cubicles. Soon, the place rang with insults, laughter, and keyboard clacking.
"Bro, you fed their carry again?"
"Says the guy who missed his ult!"
"Shut up and heal !"
"Not my fault you dove under tower like a suicidal maniac!"
Ti blurred into a haze of shouting, trolling, and triumphant whoops. By the ti they finally leaned back from their screens, it was nearly lunchti.
Since the café didn't serve food—despite having the audacity to call itself a "gaming café"—Jon volunteered to grab sothing for the group. Stretching his legs, he crossed the street to Antel's Roast, "a legendary eatery," according to Jon.
It was famous for its at and vegetable rolls. Every single item on the nu was worth the money. From chicken to beef, all stuffed generously with cheese, Antel's rolls were a masterpiece of flavour.
What Jon loved most, however, was Antel's principle: unlike other businesses that hiked up prices once they got popular, Antel had kept his prices the sa since opening four years ago.
Jon, being a local and frequent custor, had beco good friends with the elderly owner. After a cheerful greeting, he ordered four servings of their special roll—one for himself, the rest for his friends.
The special roll was delectable: chicken and potatoes seasoned with a secret spice, wrapped in thin bread, and smothered with gooey cheese. Every bite was heavenly.
Jon's stomach growled as he was unable to wait any longer. He tucked his friends' rolls into a bag, unwrapped his own, and took a huge bite.
"Mmmmhh," he moaned in delight as the savory chicken and potatoes burst with flavour. "Truly, Antel's Roast is still the best."
As Jon was savouring his roll, sothing odd caught his eye—a girl was waving at him. He froze mid-bite, flabbergasted.
Why is that girl waving at ? I was never this popular with girls.
Panic struck him. Was this so kind of prank? His eyes darted behind and landed on a tall man also waving in the sa direction.
Realization dawned: the girl was waving at the man, not him—he had just stepped into their line of sight. Flushed with embarrassnt, Jon tried to slip away unnoticed.
But then his gaze flicked toward the man's wrist. A gleaming Patel Philipene, one of the most luxurious watch brands in the world, caught his attention.
Jon grimaced as bitter mories surfaced—his ex-girlfriend Nina. Just days ago, she had dumped him the mont she found soone wealthier.
Aaaahh!! That gold-digging bitch! Jon fud internally. She hid her true nature so well, waiting for a better prospect to appear. F*ck that bitch.
But then a mory cut through the rage—Nina had wanted to save herself for marriage, and Jon, being genuinely a good guy, had agreed. No sneaky touching, no pushing boundaries—just the occasional kiss, which he'd accepted patiently.
And now? She'd tossed all of that aside the mont soone wealthier appeared.
Suddenly it clicked—what he'd thought was a "special" relationship was just like most modern ones. Girls taking advantage of their boyfriends. He'd been lovestruck, buying gifts, doing favors, giving attention and care… and she had never reciprocated.
Not a single gift, not a single thoughtful gesture. Going over every past interaction, Jon realized how much he'd acted like a simp—giving everything without ever getting an equal exchange of affection, respect, or love.
Lost in anger, Jon didn't hear the truck's horn until it blared like thunder. He snapped his head up just in ti to see a massive truck barrelling down the road.
A girl with her headphones on was crossing, oblivious to the danger. The driver leaned on the horn, struggling desperately to stop.
Ti seed to freeze. In that instant, Jon acted without thinking. He sprinted forward, shoving the girl clear of the road.
A split second later, an imnse force slamd into him. His body flew like a ragdoll, and his vision turned instantly black.
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