Well he might not rest but he will freshen up

Thankfully, the Room of Requirement had anticipated their needs, conjuring a spacious en suite bathroom adjoining the opulent bedroom. Steam already curled from the wide, marble-tiled shower enclosure, where multiple showerheads rained down warm water like a tropical storm. A massive claw-footed bathtub sat nearby, filled to the brim with bubbling, scented foam that promised relaxation—but Harry suspected relaxation wasn't on anyone's mind just yet.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it—the three women insisted on joining him. Cassiopeia, with her silver-blonde hair now tousled and damp from the earlier exertions, led the way, her lithe form swaying with predatory grace. Pansy followed, her dark curls bouncing as she shot Harry a wicked grin, and Daphne brought up the rear, her green eyes sparkling with mischief as she tugged at his arm.

"Come on, Harry," Daphne purred, her voice still husky from their shared passions. "We can't let you clean up all by yourself. That wouldn't be... hospitable."

Harry chuckled, his body still thrumming with that inexhaustible energy granted by his unique power—the Truth of the Matter, as he'd come to call it. Earlier, before they'd tumbled into the bed's embrace, he'd spoken a simple command into existence: "While we're in here, time outside the Room of Requirement won't pass until we're done."

The words had rippled through the air like magic (which they were, in a way far beyond even wizarding norms), ensuring they could indulge without the world rushing on without them. No classes missed, no suspicions raised. Perfect.

As they stepped under the cascading water, the heat enveloped them like a lover's arms, washing away the sticky remnants of their tryst. But the women had other ideas. Cassiopeia grabbed a bar of enchanted soap—scented with lavender and something earthier, like sandalwood—and lathered it between her palms until suds foamed generously.

"Let us take care of you, Harry," she murmured, her stormy eyes locking onto his as she pressed her body against his side.

Pansy and Daphne joined in seamlessly, each taking a handful of the soap and working it into rich lather. They surrounded him, their perfect bodies—soft curves, toned limbs, and flawless skin—rubbing against him in a symphony of sensation. Daphne slid behind him, her full breasts pressing into his back as she worked the suds across his shoulders and down his spine, her nipples hardening against his skin from the friction.

"Mmm, you've got such strong muscles," she whispered, her hands gliding lower to knead his glutes, fingers teasing the cleft just enough to make his cock twitch in response.

On his other side, Pansy faced him head-on, her dark eyes gleaming as she soaped his chest, her breasts brushing against his torso with every deliberate motion. The suds trailed down his abs, her hands following, tracing the V of his hips before wrapping around his semi-hard length. She stroked him slowly, lathering him up with a mix of soap and her own lingering arousal, her thumb circling the sensitive head.

"Look at you, already stirring again," she teased, her voice a throaty growl. "Insatiable, aren't you?"

Cassiopeia knelt before him, her silver locks darkening under the water as she focused on his legs. She rubbed the soap along his thighs, her hands firm and exploratory, inching upward until her fingers brushed his balls, cupping them gently while her breasts grazed his knees. The combination was intoxicating—three pairs of soft, soapy breasts sliding along his body, their curves pressing up to him like living silk. Harry groaned, his head falling back against the tiled wall, the water pounding down as their touches ignited fresh fire in his veins.

"Not complaining, are you?" Cassiopeia asked, looking up at him with a sly smile, her hands now working higher, joining Pansy's in a tandem caress that had him fully erect in moments.

Harry shook his head, a grin splitting his face despite the building ache. "Far from it. But remember, we're not wasting time here—though with you three, it's hard to call this wasting anything."

They laughed, the sound echoing off the steam-filled walls, but their movements didn't slow. Daphne's hands roamed freely now, one slipping between his legs from behind to tease his perineum while the other reached around to join the fray at his cock. The suds made everything slick, heightening every glide and squeeze. Pansy leaned in, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss, her tongue dancing with his as her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, nipples tracing wet paths across his skin.

Cassiopeia rose slowly, her body sliding up his in one fluid motion, breasts dragging along his thighs, then his hips, until she was flush against him. "Rinse off, Harry," she commanded softly, but there was no rush. The water did its work, sluicing away the soap in rivulets that highlighted every curve and contour.

As the last bubbles swirled down the drain, the four of them lingered under the spray, bodies entwined in a lazy tangle. Harry's hands explored in return—cupping Daphne's ass, pinching Pansy's nipple, threading through Cassiopeia's wet hair. The air hummed with possibility, the Room's magic ensuring their privacy and timelessness.

But eventually, even this interlude had to shift. Harry stepped out first, toweling off with a conjured cloth, his mind already turning to what lay beyond the Room's doors. The women followed, drying each other with playful swats and lingering touches, their laughter light and free.

Dressed once more in their school robes—wrinkles smoothed away by another casual utterance from Harry—they gathered at the exit. "Ready to face the world again?" he asked, his voice steady, though the power within him buzzed like a live wire.

Pansy smirked, linking her arm with his. "As long as you're leading, Harry."

Daphne nodded, and Cassiopeia simply leaned in for a quick kiss. "Always."

With that, they stepped out, time resuming its march as if nothing had happened.