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Six years ago, Narcissa Malfoy knelt on a Persian rug in her own library and forgot her name. Harry didn't understand what he'd done to her. He does now.
He works in a bookshop on Diagon Alley. His best friend's wife owns it. He stocks shelves and makes coffee and carries something behind his ribs that won't stay quiet a power connected by invisible threads to every woman he's ever claimed.
He started with two. Now there are five. The Influence feeds on skin, on proximity, on the sounds women make when they stop pretending. And it never stops growing.
Predators don't need dreams.Bookmarked by Meldarion
28 Mar 2026
