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Chapter 89 - Chapter 87 – Found Myself a Wild Little Sister

"Orestin."

A voice echoed from the spiral staircase.

The little girl peeked her head out, sneaking a glance at the speaker—only to be startled by a pair of cold, intimidating eyes. She quickly ducked back down in fright.

Her father stood and said calmly, "Lucius, after all these years, I didn't expect you to forget the etiquette of a pure-blood family. You've kept your guests waiting far too long."

"Hmph." Lucius didn't say a word.

Orestin wasn't surprised by his rude behavior. Lucius had always been this way, even back at Hogwarts.

He shrugged it off and climbed the stairs, walking alongside Lucius toward a study on the second floor.

Time to discuss serious matters.

Harry watched the scene unfold with a dazed expression.

Two elegant men—one solemn, one cold.

His mind drifted off into a bizarre fantasy: the two men entered the study and slammed the door shut. Their noble façades melted into fiery passion. They embraced, clothing flew, and bare chests gleamed in the dim light.

Orestin ran a hand down Lucius's chest and whispered, "You've gotten even better than before."

Lucius leaned over the desk, and Orestin murmured, "Sweetheart…"

The sounds that followed were enough to make your ears blush.

They moved with fervor, slick with sweat, like lovers reunited after years apart—

Snap!

Harry jolted back to reality.

Merlin, what the hell was that!?

He rubbed his temples. Just imagining that scene had seared his brain.

Thank Merlin they don't know what I was thinking.

Otherwise, they'd forget all about pure-blood pride, whip out their wands, and hit me with a Cruciatus–Avada Kedavra combo right on the spot.

Astoria noticed Harry zoning out and misunderstood.

He… doesn't want to be my brother?

She bit her lip.

I must've said something wrong. Of course he wouldn't want a sister he just met…

But I really do want a big brother…

Her little heart ached, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Harry came to and saw that Astoria—Nia—was tearing up.

Wait—what happened!?

They were just chatting happily!

Panicked, he looked around for her mother—but she was gone.

Bathroom, maybe?

Didn't matter. All that mattered now: the little girl was crying.

And if her mother returned and saw this, he'd be done for.

Big time.

What kind of guy makes a little girl cry!? His reputation—ruined!

He quickly put on a smile. "Astoria, what's wrong?"

Waaah…

He didn't call me Nia anymore!

The tears came pouring down like a silent waterfall.

Luckily, she didn't cry out loud—otherwise Orestin would've come storming downstairs.

Harry wiped sweat from his brow. "Don't cry, okay? Please?"

Terrible line.

Unsurprisingly, the tears didn't stop.

Through choked sobs, she whispered, "Do you… not like me?"

"What? Of course I do! You're absolutely adorable!" he said, frantic but honest.

"Am I not pretty enough?"

"Not true! You're the cutest girl I've ever seen," Harry groaned. His soul was dying.

"Then why didn't you call me Nia anymore?"

"…Alright, alright. Nia, Nia. My dear Nia. Better now?"

Finally—success.

Nia smiled through her tears and shyly said, "Then… can you… be my big brother?"

Her eyes sparkled with hope.

Only then did Harry realize it had all started because he hadn't answered her earlier.

Say no?

As if that was even an option.

That was like choosing between "beast" or "worse than beast."

Please. Not even a question.

Harry was a gentleman.

So, without hesitation, he said, "I… would be honored."

Looking into her big, round eyes, he added softly, "From today on, you're my little sister."

Nia's heart skipped a beat.

So… this is what it feels like to have a big brother…

Harry sighed. "Shouldn't you wipe those tears now?"

Nia turned beet red. She must look like a mess!

She fumbled to wipe her face with her sleeves.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your handkerchief?"

"Ah!" Nia gasped. Her blush deepened. She quickly pulled out a sweetly scented white handkerchief.

She dabbed at her cheeks carefully.

But even being gentle, her snow-pale skin still showed faint red marks.

She looked so pitiful and delicate…

Harry couldn't help but think—her cheeks looked just a bit too… biteable.

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