Fiona had just left the library and was preparing to return to the Slytherin dungeons when a figure darted out from behind a stone pillar, blocking her path.
It was Cressida.
The Gryffindor seventh-year Prefect showed none of her usual decisiveness or majesty. Instead, she looked like a startled fawn, her hands nervously wringing the hem of her robes.
"Fiona..."
Cressida's voice trembled. She looked anxiously at Fiona's expressionless face, mustering a great deal of courage. "My... my mother is coming. We're graduating soon, and I... I want you to meet her."
In Cressida's mind, the "intimate" contact they had shared recently was proof enough that Fiona had feelings for her.
Taking Fiona to meet her parents was the most solemn way she could think of to take their relationship to the next level.
Fiona stopped, her grey eyes fixed quietly on Cressida without an immediate answer.
Meet the parents?
The very idea seemed absurd and laughable to Fiona.
Fiona was indeed becoming "addicted."
She was obsessed with watching this proud Gryffindor Prefect perform all sorts of shameful and submissive acts under her command.
She enjoyed the absolute sense of control, the feeling of playing with a pure-blood aristocratic lady in the palm of her hand.
But that was a world away from "love."
"Meet your mother?"
Fiona finally spoke, her voice light but sharp as a blade quenched in ice. "Cressida, have you misunderstood something? Do you really think we have the kind of relationship that requires meeting parents?"
Jerry, who happened to be passing by the corner of the corridor on his way back to the dormitory, heard Fiona's cold words and paused.
He immediately ducked behind the corner, his brow furrowing slightly.
The mission to tame Cressida was only one final step away.
Jerry had planned to find the time in the next couple of days to thoroughly "straighten out" this proud Gryffindor Prefect. He was on the verge of success; he couldn't let Fiona ruin his plans now.
Thinking of this, he immediately drew his wand and cast a silent Voice Transmission Charm toward Fiona.
A voice only Fiona could hear rang out in her mind:
"Senior, don't be so direct. You'll drive her to madness."
Jerry's voice sounded incredibly sincere. "Think about it—she's completely devoted to you now. If she suffers a total breakdown, it's a waste."
"Instead, just go along with her. A Gryffindor Prefect and a lady of a pure-blood family—how could her mother ever agree to her having a girlfriend? When the time comes, you won't even need to step in. Her mother will solve this problem for you. Won't it be easier to cut ties then?"
Fiona's icy question had felt like a bucket of cold water over Cressida's head.
The color drained from her face, and she desperately tried to explain: "Fiona, you've got it wrong. I didn't mean it like that, I just..."
Before she could finish, Fiona suddenly moved.
Fiona took a sudden step forward, slamming one hand against the wall beside Cressida's ear, pinning her between her body and the cold stone.
Under Cressida's stunned gaze, Fiona's other hand, in a posture that brooked no resistance, flipped up the plaid skirt beneath her robes and reached directly into that warm crevice between her legs.
Cold fingers pressed against the softest, most sensitive area, which was devoid of any underwear.
"Mmh!"
Cressida's body stiffened, a short gasp escaping her lips.
Fiona didn't insert her fingers; instead, she used her fingertips to rub in slow, deliberate circles against the already moist, soft flesh.
This sudden, aggressive move left Cressida's mind a total blank.
The rejection she had expected never came. Instead, she was met with this kind of intimacy that made her legs go weak.
To Cressida, this had to be Fiona's way of expressing a twisted kind of "joy" at the proposal to meet her parents.
Fiona leaned down, her warm breath brushing against Cressida's ear. Her voice carried a hint of playful amusement: "Since you want me to meet your mother so badly, you'll have to pass my test first."
Before Cressida could respond, Fiona pulled a black silk scarf from her robe pocket and gently blindfolded her, tying a knot at the back of her head.
"Mmh... Fiona?"
With her vision plunged into darkness, Cressida's other senses became increasingly acute.
She could clearly hear Fiona's footsteps and feel herself being pulled up from the ground. Hand in hand, they stumbled forward.
The air around them seemed to grow colder and damper. It felt as if they were entering a secluded, rarely used corridor.
Finally, Fiona stopped. Cressida heard the faint sound of a painting being moved.
"Get in."
Fiona's voice sounded from behind her. Cressida submissively bent down and crawled into a narrow space.
It was dark and quiet.
"Kneel," Fiona commanded as she followed her inside.
Cressida knelt once more, the cold, rough stone bricks beneath her knees.
She asked, part anxious and part expectant, "Fiona, what are we doing?"
"Shh."
Fiona's hand gently stroked the back of her head. "I've prepared a very interesting toy for you. You're going to love it."
A toy?
Cressida was confused, but she obediently opened her mouth.
Immediately after, a warm object of a shockingly large size was brought to her lips.
Cressida could feel the object's pulse and the faint, clean scent of musk emanating from it.
"What is this?"
Cressida instinctively stuck out her tongue and gave it a lick. The object instantly swelled a size larger in her mouth.
"Use all your skills to please it."
Fiona's voice carried an unquestionable command.
Cressida hesitated no longer.
She treated this "toy" bestowed by Fiona as a part of Fiona's own body.
She reached out with both hands to steady the base of the massive meat pillar and then buried her head into it. Cressida opened her throat as wide as she could, allowing the cock to enter her esophagus as deeply as possible.
Warm fluid began to overflow from the corners of her mouth, sliding down her chin and dripping onto her chest.
While Cressida was focused entirely on serving the "toy" with her mouth, she was completely unaware that Fiona was watching the boy Cressida was serving with a look of intense longing.
Fiona watched Jerry's chin tilt up slightly from the intense stimulation, which sent a surge of excitement through her.
Fiona stepped forward, using her height advantage over Jerry to press him lightly against the wall.
Then, Fiona lifted one leg and used her knee to pry Jerry's legs apart.
Fiona said nothing, but her actions spoke for themselves.
Bending down slightly, Fiona used her body to guide Jerry's head, burying his face between her own legs.
Next, seeking a higher level of stimulation and a better way to control the boy before her, Fiona made an even bolder move.
Fiona lifted a foot clad in a black leather shoe and stepped precisely onto the head of Cressida, who was kneeling on the ground and working hard.
Fiona used Cressida's head as her footstool in an extremely humiliating posture.
Simultaneously, Fiona used both hands to press against the back of Jerry's head, burying his face deeper into her body.
"Mmh..."
Although Jerry's tongue carried a hint of raw inexperience, his movements were precise and powerful.
Every flick and scrape of his tongue felt like a pulse of weak magic, bringing waves of dense numbness to Fiona.
Her hands on the back of Jerry's head tightened unconsciously, fingers threading through his soft black hair as her body swayed gently to the rhythm of the boy's tongue.
Slippery, wet sounds began to echo in the cramped space—shlurp, slurp—one after another, clearly audible.
It was the sound of the fluids constantly gushing from between Fiona's legs being swallowed entirely by Jerry.
While enjoying the service from below, Fiona spared a thread of her mind to use her wand tip to cast a weak Euphoria Charm on the blindfolded Cressida.
The spell amplified Cressida's senses.
She could clearly feel the "toy" in her mouth growing larger and harder under her service, nearly splitting her mouth open.
With every swallow, the massive head would thrust hard against the back of Cressida's throat, bringing an oppressive sensation bordering on suffocation.
But strangely, this feeling of breathlessness didn't bring Cressida pain. Instead, it triggered an unprecedented, morbid excitement.
Cressida began to obsess over the feeling—the helplessness of her throat being completely filled, the inability to breathe, the necessity of passive endurance.
Cressida began to work even harder at her task.
Her tongue, mimicking techniques she had read about in books, circled the massive shaft constantly.
Her hands gripped the base of the pillar tightly, feeling the two thick, pulsating veins.
Cressida's diligent performance below was fed back clearly to Jerry.
Jerry could feel his spear, wrapped in the warmth of her mouth, expanding at an unprecedented rate, nearly reaching its limit.
The rich fragrance from Fiona and the soft, slippery touch of being pressed against her legs caused the desire within him to climb at an incredible speed.
Jerry let out a low, suppressed growl that was half-pain and half-pleasure. He was no longer satisfied with passive licking.
He began to take the initiative, thrusting his hips forcefully into Cressida's mouth.
Slap, slap...
With every thrust, the massive meat pillar drove deeper into Cressida's throat.
With every collision, Cressida's body swayed from the lack of oxygen and the intense pleasure.
Fiona's foot, in its leather shoe atop Cressida's head, acted like an immovable mountain, fixing Cressida firmly in place. She couldn't escape and was forced to endure the overwhelming deep-throat impact again and again.
Fiona squinted her eyes in comfort. The subtle tremors of the skull beneath her foot, caused by oxygen deprivation and pleasure, filled her with immense satisfaction.
At the same time, the aggressive oral technique of the boy before her caused her entire body to flush pink.
Jerry's tongue was flexible. First, he used the tip to circle repeatedly.
Then, he used the entire surface of his tongue to cover the wet area, sucking forcefully.
Warm streams of fluid were sucked unceremoniously into his mouth and swallowed, making audible gulp, gulp sounds.
Just as the three people behind the tapestry were immersed in this game dominated by desire, a clear set of footsteps accompanied by conversation drifted over from the corridor nearby.
"...Cressida has always been so driven. I keep telling her there's no need for a girl to work so hard..."
It was a gentle female voice, filled with motherly love.
It was Cressida's mother!
The realization hit Fiona and Jerry like a thunderclap.
Fiona's foot on top of Cressida's head exerted force instinctively.
Jerry, with his head being held by Fiona, was pressed deeper into that muddy jungle by the sudden force.
Even the fully immersed Cressida wasn't completely unaware.
But what Cressida felt first was the "toy" in her mouth suddenly swelling even more.
The force of the impact also became more savage.
She could hear the muffled voices outside, but they were pushed into an irrelevant corner by the increasingly intense pleasure in her body and the thinning oxygen in her brain.
Slap, slap, slap...
Jerry's movements became somewhat frantic.
While working hard to soothe the senior who was much taller than him with his tongue, his hips were also crazily pounding the face he couldn't see below.
Jerry could feel his spear, already swollen to its limit, was about to erupt.
The footsteps and voices grew closer.
Fiona could even see the elegant purple robes of Cressida's mother through the gaps in the tapestry.
Fiona's heart began to race, but rather than fear, it was a morbid excitement from testing the edge of danger.
Fiona looked down at Cressida beneath her feet and then at Jerry, who was working hard to lick her. An even crazier thought took root in her mind.
"Wait!"
Fiona's breathing was also rapid. She released her hold on the back of Jerry's head and instead grasped the massive, scorching spear about to erupt.
Fiona used her palm to rapidly stroke the vein-covered shaft twice, feeling it throb violently in her hand.
Then, Fiona pulled Jerry back, extracting the massive head from Cressida's mouth.
"Mmh..."
With the restraint in her throat gone, Cressida immediately began to gasp for air. A mixture of saliva and essence-like translucent liquid slid continuously from the corners of her mouth.
"Don't make a sound," Fiona's voice whispered in her ear, carrying an unquestionable command. "The test isn't over yet."
Just outside the tapestry, Cressida's mother's voice came through clearly, gentle and refined: "Yes, the children grow up in the blink of an eye. I'm so reluctant to see them graduate. Cressida has been training so hard for her NEWTs lately; she's lost weight. I must tell her to eat more."
Another gentle female voice laughed in response: "Isabella too. All she does is study ancient runes all day. I'm afraid she'll ruin her eyes."
Her mother's voice.
Cressida's body jolted, and she instinctively tried to stand up.
But Fiona was faster.
Fiona shoved Cressida back down, forcing her to maintain her kneeling posture.
Then, Fiona leaned down and used her lips to fiercely block Cressida's mouth, which was about to cry out.
This wasn't a kiss; it was a seal.
Fiona's tongue domineeringly pried open Cressida's teeth, stirring wantonly in her mouth and blocking every gasp that was about to escape.
Simultaneously, Fiona used her free hand to guide Jerry behind Cressida.
This left Jerry somewhat stunned.
The massive spear, which had been wrapped in the warmth of a mouth for so long, was suddenly pulled out. The contact with the cool air left Jerry in a daze for a split second.
What surprised Jerry even more was that Fiona didn't let him ejaculate. Instead, she gripped his purple, swollen shaft and pulled him behind Cressida.
A brand-new, faintly fragrant, and incredibly tight secret realm was revealed before his eyes.
Just then, a warm breath blew into his ear.
It was Fiona.
While sealing all possible sounds from the body beneath her, she leaned close to Jerry's ear and whispered in a voice only they could hear:
"I have a better way to 'straighten her out' than using a mouth."
The sentence acted like a curse, instantly igniting the last bit of hesitation in Jerry's eyes.
Yes—what method could be faster than this for straightening out a "hard butch"?
There wasn't much time left for the mission; he couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.
Jerry stopped hesitating and actively thrust his waist forward.
Fiona smiled with satisfaction.
Her hand on Jerry's spear began to exert force.
Like an experienced mentor, she guided the shockingly sized "teaching tool," grinding it repeatedly against the tight entrance, allowing the tender flesh there to fully adapt to its size and secrete more fluids.
Squelch... squelch...
The slippery water sounds rang out again, but this time, the sound came from behind Cressida.
Cressida's body began to twist uneasily.
She could clearly feel something even hotter and harder than the previous "toy" thrusting against her most private place from behind, stroke by stroke.
It was a strange sensation that brought her fear, yet also a mysterious expectation.
Fiona, as if thinking this wasn't exciting enough, began to let her free hand wander over Cressida's body. She kneaded her breasts forcefully at times and slid downward at others, flicking neither lightly nor heavily against the small nub of flesh already swollen with pleasure.
Just as Cressida's body thoroughly softened from the multiple stimulations, Fiona's hand on Jerry's spear gave a sudden, forward shove.
Squish...
Accompanied by a faint sound like wet cloth being torn, Jerry's oversized head pried open the thin barrier and squeezed in brutally.
"Ah... mmh-ugh!"
A tearing pain surged from her lower body, causing Cressida's body to arch.
But her mouth was held dead shut by Fiona. Every cry of pain was transformed into broken sounds of exchanged saliva.
Jerry didn't begin moving immediately.
He could feel himself being gripped tightly. That extreme sensation of being enveloped nearly sent him to the clouds in an instant.
Jerry gasped for air, his hands propping against Cressida's swaying back as he struggled to calm his near-exploding desire.
While deepening the plunder in Cressida's mouth, Fiona used her free hand to unhurriedly knead Cressida's already erect, small nipples.
The pain was gradually replaced by an even stranger, more agonizing pleasure.
Cressida felt as if her body were being split in two. One half was being toyed with by Fiona's lips and fingers.
The other half was being stretched and filled from the inside by a massive, scorching foreign object she had never felt before.
"Do you hear that, Cressida?"
Fiona pulled slightly away from her lips, her breath whispering in her ear. "Your mother is right outside. She says you're thin and wants you to eat more. Tell me—what kind of face would she make if I let her see the 'extra meal' you're having right now?"
With that, Fiona blocked Cressida's mouth once more. Jerry, having finally adapted to the tight grip, began to slowly move his waist in steady thrusts.
Squelch... squelch...
The slippery sounds rang out clearly.
Every entry and exit brought out a large amount of body fluid, turning the connection point into a muddy mess.
Outside the tapestry, Cressida's mother was still chatting gently with Isabella's mother, Cassiopeia.
"Speaking of which, Cassiopeia, how many years has it been since we graduated from here? Even though Hogwarts moved from Scotland to this place, everything seems exactly the same as it used to be."
Cassiopeia responded with a proper smile: "Yes, it's been many years. I just didn't expect our daughters to both be Prefects, just like we were. Who would have thought back then when we were trying to kill each other in school that we'd become best friends on the front lines... though I saw Molly today, and she's as annoying as ever."
Cassiopeia's tone was gentle, but her eyes inadvertently swept over the massive tapestry nearby.
She seemed to hear some... strange sounds.
It was a suppressed, slippery water sound, mixed with faint whimpers like those of a small animal.
"Oh dear!"
Cassiopeia suddenly let out a soft cry of surprise, reaching up to touch her earlobe. "It seems I've dropped an earring. It should be right around here."
Cassiopeia naturally disengaged from the conversation with Cressida's mother, bending down and pretending to search the ground, all while moving toward the tapestry without a trace.
Cassiopeia gently lifted a corner of the tapestry.
The erotic scene before her caused even this pure-blood lady, who had seen many storms, to widen her eyes slightly.
Cassiopeia's gaze fell first on Fiona.
Then, she saw her best friend's daughter, the Gryffindor Prefect Cressida, pinned beneath Fiona's foot and being violated from behind.
Finally, her gaze landed on the boy who was buried between Fiona's legs while simultaneously working hard to cultivate Cressida's body with his lower half.
A Gryffindor, a Slytherin, and a boy who looked so young, yet whose spear was disproportionately large.
There was not a hint of panic on Cassiopeia's face.
That initial surprise quickly shifted into an interested, play-watching amusement.
The corner of her mouth even hooked into an almost invisible smile.
Cassiopeia released her hand, allowing the tapestry to fall gently back into place.
Then, she reached out with her hand, adorned with an emerald ring, and used her nail to tap the rough tapestry twice in a rhythmic manner.
Tap, tap.
The sound wasn't loud, but it hit Fiona's heart like two heavy hammers.
Fiona's body went stiff for a split second.
Through the gaps in the tapestry, she had seen Cassiopeia's face with its playful smile.
They had been discovered.
And by Isabella's mother, no less—a witch known in pure-blood circles for her shrewdness and cunning.
A thrill of stimulation even stronger than before, a mix of fear and excitement, shot up from Fiona's tailbone to the top of her head.
Outside, Cassiopeia straightened up, clutching the emerald earring she hadn't actually dropped. With an impeccable smile on her face, she returned to Cressida's mother's side.
"Found it. It was caught on my clothes."
She didn't leave. Instead, she leaned leisurely against the wall next to the tapestry. This position allowed her to hear the increasingly wanton sounds of splashing and impact from within even more clearly.
Cressida's mother, completely unaware, continued the previous topic: "Yes, the front lines... those days were truly ones I'd rather not look back on. But seriously, that Molly is indeed... a bit too enthusiastic. Sometimes it's a bit much to handle. But she's actually quite a decent person."
"More than just enthusiastic."
Cassiopeia's tone took on a hint of measured contempt. "She's practically vulgar. But I suppose it can't be helped, given her background. Speaking of which, has your Cressida started dating anyone? Our Isabella is very well-behaved, but I wonder if yours might be tricked by some... questionable young boy?"
That sentence acted like an invisible whip, lashing against the heart of everyone behind the tapestry.
Jerry was indeed stimulated.
While soothing Fiona with his tongue, he worked even harder, slamming his hips into the body beneath him that he had already turned into a muddy mess.
Slap, slap, slap...
Every impact felt as if it were going to pierce through Cressida's body.
The slippery sounds were so loud that even Cressida's mother outside noticed something.
"What was that sound?" she asked, somewhat confused.
"Oh, probably a leak somewhere. This castle is old," Cassiopeia answered without a change in expression. Then, as if remembering something interesting, she laughed. "Kids these days play way too much. Unlike in our time, where the most we did was hold hands in the Forbidden Forest."
"Listen—isn't there a strange sound in this castle? Like a kitten crying. It sounds quite... pathetic."
This malicious sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Cressida's mother, however, didn't seem to catch the hidden meaning. Instead, she laughed and replied: "Speaking of holding hands, Cassiopeia, I remember very clearly who it was that was pinned against a tree and kissed by a Ravenclaw senior in the Forbidden Forest, only to have their lip bitten open?"
The smile on Cassiopeia's face remained, but a dangerous light appeared in her eyes.
She elegantly brushed her long hair back and countered in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft: "Still better than some people who got drunk and mistook Filch's cat for their crush, hugging and kissing it all over. That scene... tsk tsk, I can still remember it clearly to this day."
They went back and forth, using the gentlest of tones to say the most explosive things that only they knew from the past.
They enjoyed the thrill of using words to recall the past, probing and attacking each other, completely failing to notice that the commotion behind the tapestry next to them was growing louder and louder.
Behind the tapestry, Jerry was driven near-mad by their conversation and the tight grip of the body beneath him.
Jerry was no longer satisfied with the position of entering from behind.
He pulled out his massive meat root, which was already oily and glistening from being coated in her juices.
Then, he flipped over the body beneath him—already as limp as a puddle of mud—so she was facing him.
Squish!
A loud, wet, thudding sound echoed.
Jerry entered Cressida's body once again in a deeper, face-to-face position.
Then, he reached out and tore the blindfold off her face with a single yank.
Cressida's eyes, which had long been misty and blurred with pleasure, finally saw the light again.
And then, she saw the boyish, youthful face pressing down on her.
It was Jerry.
The first-year student who had only recently enrolled.
This realization caused Cressida's brain to short-circuit for a split second.
Immediately following, a surge of unprecedented shame and humiliation drowned her.
"Shut up!"
Fiona's reaction was faster than hers.
The moment Cressida was about to scream, Fiona released her control over Jerry.
In an extremely humiliating gesture, she straddled Cressida's face directly.
She used her own most tender parts—already muddy and soaking wet—to press down hard on Cressida's mouth.
She blocked every impending gasp and cry for help back into her throat.
"Mmph... mmph-mmph!"
Cressida's struggling became even more violent.
She could feel the massive meat root behind her—one that didn't seem to belong to a child—skewering her body over and over with a nearly cruel force.
Meanwhile, her face was being firmly suppressed by the lust-scented body of the woman she admired, Fiona.
Even breathing became difficult for her.
Fiona, however, seemed to have found a more interesting way to play.
While suppressing Cressida's resistance with her body, she gripped Jerry's waist again.
She guided him, using even more tricky and deeper angles to ram into Cressida's body.
Squelch, squelch, squelch...
The wet, sticky sounds were louder than at any point before.
They were nearly loud enough to drown out the conversation of the two noblewomen outside.
Outside, Cassiopeia heard the sudden intensification of the wet sounds and the short, quickly suppressed scream.
The smile on her face deepened.
Cassiopeia nudged the arm of her friend beside her and spoke in a low, secret-sharing tone.
"My dear, listen... doesn't that sound a bit familiar?
Doesn't it sound like those times when we were young, sneaking into the bathrooms... to do bad things?"
Cressida's mother froze for a moment, and then listened closely.
The clear, rhythmic thudding and the excessively wet squelching finally made her realize what was happening.
Her face turned red in an instant.
She shot an embarrassed, annoyed look at Cassiopeia: "What utter nonsense are you talking!"
Despite her words, her feet seemed rooted to the spot; she didn't move an inch.
In fact, she unconsciously leaned her ear a bit closer to the tapestry.
Curiosity had triumphed over the reserve of a pure-blood lady.
Behind the tapestry, Fiona could clearly feel Cressida's resistance gradually weakening.
It was replaced by a series of weak, resigned spasms.
Cressida's nose was filled with Fiona's fragrance, mixed with sweat and desire.
And her body was being relentlessly carved out and pierced by the boy's disproportionately massive meat root from behind.
Fiona's body gave a sudden shudder, and then she collapsed powerlessly to one side.
"Ah... ahh..."
Without the obstruction, Cressida could no longer suppress her voice.
A series of broken, tuneless moans spilled from her lips.
And Jerry, stimulated by the knowledge that they were being overheard, reached his breaking point.
Plow, plow, plow...
Fiona felt Cressida trembling beneath her, her soft cheeks distorted by the pressure of Fiona's secret place.
She could feel Cressida's rapid breathing and unyielding whimpers through her own wetness.
This pushed Fiona's excitement to the ultimate peak.
She rubbed her face against Cressida even harder, her own moans becoming intermittent with pleasure.
Jerry's eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clamped shut so hard his facial muscles pulsed.
The veins in his neck stood out in sharp relief.
The intense pleasure made him feel as if he were in a life-or-death bayonet charge against an enemy.
Streams of thick, scalding hot fluid shot deep into Cressida.
Jerry's volume was massive; he ejaculated for at least half a minute under the dual stimulation.
Cressida's body felt a violent tremor, as if hit by an electric shock.
Jerry's essence was thick, quickly adhering to her internal walls and accumulating.
Cressida's depths were filled to the brim, giving her a sensation of bloating and heaviness.
Her lower abdomen actually began to swell at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Gurgle... squelch...
The sticky sounds were clear in the cramped space behind the tapestry.
Each thrust successfully brought out large amounts of fluid like a floodgate opening, turning the connection point into a muddy mess.
Cassiopeia seemed to finally tire of the game.
She straightened up gracefully and spoke to her friend.
"Alright, my dear. The 'pipes' seem to be fixed. We should go and greet the others."
Cressida's mother nodded and turned to leave.
Just before walking away, she cast one more curious glance toward the tapestry.
"Young people these days certainly know how to play..." she muttered softly, her voice carrying a hint of inexplicable excitement.
"But... that sound... why does it seem so familiar?"
She frowned, seemingly remembering something, but then shook her head with a laugh and followed Cassiopeia.
She would never have guessed that the "exciting" and "familiar" sound was coming from her own pride and joy—her daughter.
The footsteps faded away.
The high-pressure atmosphere behind the tapestry finally dissipated.
Fiona let out a long, heavy breath and stood up from Cressida's face.
She looked down at the Gryffindor Prefect, who had been worked over until she was a mess.
There was no pity on Fiona's face, only a slight post-game lethargy.
Cressida finally regained the freedom to breathe.
Her face was covered in tears, saliva, and the sticky fluids Fiona had left behind.
Her eyes were hollow, and her body was still twitching uncontrollably from the violent impact.
Jerry stopped his movements as well.
Though he remained buried inside Cressida, he was no longer as hard as he had been.
Jerry looked down at the senior who was much taller than him, eyeing her lower abdomen, which he had propped up into a slight bulge.
"Let me help you."
Fiona smiled at Jerry, the expression carrying a hint of playful fawning.
She gripped the slippery meat column and pulled it out.
Pop!
A sound even louder than before—dripping with wetness—rang out.
As the massive foreign object departed completely, a somewhat disgusting mixture of murky fluids erupted from between Cressida's legs.
It made a total mess of her inner thighs and the floor beneath her.
Fiona looked at Jerry's meat root, still stained with sticky fluids, and then at the trembling Cressida.
A wicked smile curled her lips.
Fiona reached out and deftly unbuttoned Cressida's top, ripping off her lace bra in one go.
Without a shred of hesitation, she used this piece of underwear—still warm with Cressida's body heat—to meticulously wipe down the "weapon" that had brought Jerry conquest and pleasure.
Fiona wiped thoroughly, from every bulging vein down to the heavy sack below.
When she was finished, she tossed the garment back onto Cressida's face like a piece of trash.
Then, Fiona stood up and spread her arms.
She pulled the shorter Jerry into a tight embrace.
Fiona rested her chin on Jerry's head, feeling the boy's vibrant heartbeat.
In a voice that was almost a possessive murmur, she whispered into his ear:
"Do you like the gift I gave you?"
"Of course, Senior!"
Narcissa's fingertips slid gently across the ebony surface of the desk in her son's dormitory.
The touch was cold and smooth.
Her gaze swept across the overly magnificent room with a trace of scrutiny she hadn't even noticed.
Expensive magical tapestries that automatically changed scenery hung on the walls.
Mithril photo frames engraved with the Malfoy crest sat on the nightstand.
Even the curtains were woven from velvet and gold thread.
But when Narcissa's eyes fell on the brand-new magical broom leaning against the wall, the composed elegance of the noblewoman finally cracked.
A Nimbus 2000!
That was no ordinary broom.
The gold-stamped model number on the handle gleamed brilliantly under the magical candlelight.
It was the latest model, a competition-grade broom—a symbol of speed and status.
Narcissa knew very well that the price of this broom could sustain an ordinary wizarding family for ten years.
Even star players in the professional Quidditch leagues didn't all own such a top-tier ride.
This was too... extravagant.
"Lucius..." Narcissa whispered her husband's name in her heart.
Neither she nor Lucius were people skilled at managing family industries.
They were more interested in navigating the power struggles of the Ministry.
They were obsessed with maintaining the Malfoy family's precarious prestige within pure-blood circles.
The family vaults hadn't seen a significant deposit in a long time.
The manors inherited from ancestors, the goblin-forged antiques, and countless magical items were being sold off one by one, quietly, to cover their massive daily expenses.
The Malfoy family was eating away at its own foundations.
This fact was like a cold needle pricking Narcissa.
Looking at the priceless broom, she didn't see a boy's new toy; she saw a mountain of gold being hollowed out, ready to collapse.
How long could this ethereal glory, bought by selling ancestral property, actually last?
Narcissa walked slowly to the broom and reached out to stroke the smooth, cold handle.
She could feel her heart—always wrapped in pride and elegance—sinking bit by bit.
"Draco."
Narcissa withdrew her hand and turned to her son.
Her voice maintained its usual pure-blood elegance, but a sharp edge lurked in her blue eyes.
"When did your father buy this broom for you behind my back?"
Draco was triumphantly showing off his new silver-trimmed robes to his mother.
Hearing her question, he looked up with confusion.
His pale face, which shared a thirty-percent resemblance to Lucius, was filled with pride.
"Father?"
Draco let out a light laugh, as if he had heard something funny.
"Father couldn't afford this. Mother, everything in this room—including that Nimbus 2000—I earned myself."
Draco spoke righteously, his pride appearing genuine.
Narcissa's heart sank even faster.
Earned it himself?
How could an eleven-year-old first-year, who had never touched the family business, earn enough Gold Galleons to buy a Nimbus 2000?
How could he afford to decorate his dorm more luxuriously than the master bedroom of Malfoy Manor?
Narcissa wanted to demand why he was telling such an easily shattered, stupid lie.
An even more terrifying thought—one that made her back go cold—emerged in her mind.
"Draco."
Narcissa's voice dropped low and heavy.
Her noblewoman's elegance was gone, replaced by a gravity that bordered on fear.
"Look me in the eye and answer me. Are you... doing something that violates Ministry prohibitions?"
She and Lucius had been so prominent back then.
They were young, impulsive, and drawn to that man's charisma and power. They had thrown themselves under his banner without looking back.
And what happened later?
Endless fear, forced killings, and—after the defeat—spending every resource and ounce of wealth just to buy back a desperate kind of freedom.
They might not have been perfect parents, and they valued family glory above all else, but they shared one unwavering bottom line:
They would never, ever let Draco follow in their footsteps.
The pride on Draco's face froze.
He looked at his mother in disbelief, seemingly not understanding why the conversation had suddenly become so heavy.
"Mother? What are you talking about?"
"Answer me!" Narcissa's voice turned sharp. "Where did all this money come from? Are you associating with questionable people? Have you touched those things... those things we absolutely forbade you from touching?"
Draco's face flushed red with his mother's suspicion.
This time, however, it wasn't from pride—it was from rage.
"Why won't you ever believe me?"
Draco retorted defiantly.
"In your eyes and Father's, am I just a troublemaker who can only follow behind you? I earned these things with my own ability! Why am I being interrogated like a criminal?"
"Your ability?"
Narcissa laughed in anger. "What ability do you have? You're only eleven! Draco, there are paths that, once taken, have no turning back. Your father and I... we will not allow you to..."
"Enough!" Draco interrupted her loudly. "I haven't!"
Draco's chest heaved violently.
His pale, handsome face was beet-red with anger and a sense of grievance.
His blue eyes, usually full of arrogance, were now swimming with tears, like a sea covered by storm clouds.
"What right do you have to say that?"
Draco's voice trembled with agitation, no longer able to maintain the slow, aristocratic drawl he copied from his father.
"Just because my name is Malfoy, do I have to be a useless waste? Do I have to live forever on the path you've paved for me, like a puppet? I can't even earn a little money without being suspected of doing something underhanded?"
The series of questions were like sharp knives stabbing into Narcissa's heart.
Looking at the hurt in her son's eyes, she found herself speechless for a moment.
She had never imagined that her concern would be such a heavy insult to Draco.
"I..." Narcissa tried to explain, but Draco gave her no chance.
The pride of a youth and the rage of being misunderstood had completely breached the dam of Draco's reason.
Draco took a step forward and practically roared.
"You want to know where these things came from? Fine! I'll tell you!"
Draco pointed forcefully at every item in the room, from the dazzling Nimbus 2000 to the changing tapestries and the robe he was wearing.
"All of this, I earned together with Jerry!"
Narcissa froze.
"Jerry?"
When Jerry hummed a little tune and pushed open the heavy stone door of the Slytherin common room, a familiar, cool breeze from the bottom of the Black Lake met him.
The fire in the hearth was burning quietly, its green light reflecting off the carved stone walls and velvet sofas, casting deep, flickering shadows.
The common room wasn't crowded; most students were still in the Great Hall for dinner.
He immediately saw Narcissa Malfoy sitting in a single armchair by the fireplace. Her elegant figure looked stiff in the dim light.
Her son, Draco, stood before her, his face still flushed with excitement and pride.
Clearly, a Malfoy family meeting had just been interrupted by the mention of his "partner's" name.
Jerry's steps were light, making almost no sound, but his appearance immediately drew the full attention of the mother and son.
Draco's eyes lit up as if he had seen a savior, and he instantly straightened his back.
[Mission: Melting Point of the Iron Butch - Completed.]
[Mission Evaluation: Perfect. The target character's core emotional logic has been reshaped.]
[Reward Issued: Rare Bloodline 'Gaze of Medusa' successfully fused.]
[Detecting Host's mana adaptability... Fusion 100%. Bloodline talent activated.]
A subtle but profound change was occurring deep within Jerry's magic.
His eyes seemed to hold a deeper depth than usual, as if something ancient and powerful were slowly waking beneath those pitch-black pupils.
"Mrs. Malfoy!"
Jerry gave a slight nod. His words and deeds were flawless—holding the elegance of a Slytherin mixed with the perfect amount of humility. "Good day!"
Narcissa's gaze lingered on that overly young—even youthful—face for a moment.
"Mr. Jerry!" Narcissa's voice returned to the slow, elegant drawl of a Malfoy lady, but every word was like a piece of ice. "I believe we need a more private place to discuss the 'business' between you and Draco."
The smile on Jerry's face didn't change as he gestured to the side.
"Of course. It would be my honor."
Draco was eager to follow. He couldn't wait to show his mother the "business empire" he and Jerry had built. But Narcissa simply shot him a cold backward glance.
"You. Stay here."
The unquestionable command caused Draco's footsteps to freeze instantly.
The door closed on Jerry's dormitory.
Unlike Draco's room of extreme luxury, this place was exceptionally simple—even austere.
A meticulously organized bed, a desk with a few heavy magic books, and nothing else.
No magical tapestries, no silver frames, and no scent of incense in the air.
However, the moment the door closed, the peace of the room was shattered.
Snap!
Narcissa moved with a speed unlike that of a pampered lady.
She whipped out her wand, her fair wrist flicking as the tip burst with a glint of cold light, aimed dead center at Jerry's forehead.
Her beautiful blue eyes burned with a suppressed rage and a trace of fear she hadn't even noticed.
"You... you absolute bastard!"
Narcissa hissed the words through her teeth.
Immediately after, her other hand reached into her robes and pulled something out, throwing it forcefully at Jerry.
The object traced a small arc through the air, carrying a hint of undried moisture.
Jerry didn't dodge. He caught it easily.
The object felt warm and smooth in his hand. Its surface still held a trace of sticky, translucent fluid, radiating the faint yet extremely private musky scent of a mature woman.
It was the gemstone-inlaid butt plug.
The "little gift" Jerry had sent her.
Jerry acted as if he couldn't feel the threat from the wand tip. He looked down, using his thumb and index finger to rub gently over the slippery liquid, savoring the unique texture.
His movement wasn't lewd; instead, it was like he was appraising a precious work of art.
Then, Jerry looked up, a pure and innocent smile on his face.
"Madam, what is the meaning of this?" Jerry's voice was light and soft, carrying the clarity of a youth. "Do you... not like the gift I sent you?"
"Gift?"
The word was the fuse for the powder keg. Narcissa's voice turned shrill, her carefully maintained elegance shattering completely. "You nearly killed Draco! Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Killed Draco?"
The smile on Jerry's face didn't vanish; it grew even brighter.
He looked as if he had heard an incredibly funny joke. In his eyes—deep enough to belie his age—there was the knowing look of someone who saw through everything.
"Madam, do you truly believe that?"
Before the words had finished, he moved.
The boy who had been at a safe distance a second ago crossed the space between them in a single step.
Narcissa's vision blurred as an aggressive, un-boyish aura hit her.
Before she could make a single magical or physical reaction, her back slammed hard against the dormitory door.
Thud!
A heavy impact sounded.
The vibration of the door panel traveled through Narcissa's back and into her whole body, leaving her brain blank for an instant.
Outside, Draco—who was pressing his ear against the door to eavesdrop—flinched at the sudden sound, his footsteps stopping involuntarily.
He held his breath, his heart racing.
What... what's happening in there?
Inside, the world had turned upside down.
The shorter Jerry used his body to completely pin the noble Mrs. Malfoy between himself and the door, forming a tiny, airtight space.
One of Jerry's hands propped against the door, cutting off any chance of her escape.
The other hand, with an unquestionable sense of purpose, reached directly downward.
The expensive silk robes offered no resistance at all.
Jerry's fingers accurately found the private area wrapped in lace. With practiced ease, he pushed aside the edge of the fabric and probed directly into the warm, moist secret realm.
"You—!"
Narcissa sucked in a breath, her body going taut from the sudden violation.
But Jerry gave her no chance to speak.
He leaned his head down, accurately taking her already swollen nipple through her robe into his mouth.
The fabric was quickly soaked with saliva, clinging tightly to her skin.
Through the thin silk, Jerry used his tongue to flick circles skillfully, his teeth nipping neither too lightly nor too heavily. A satisfied swallowing sound came from his throat.
Squelch... squelch...
Jerry's fingers worked nimbly at the center of her thighs.
The already sensitive "ruby" was repeatedly pressed and kneaded by his finger pads. Every touch brought forth a stream of slippery honey.
Soon, the clear sound of wetness rang out between their pressed bodies, mingling with the slurp of Jerry sucking her breast to form a lewd symphony.
"Pregnant women shouldn't have such bad tempers!"
Jerry's muddled voice came from Narcissa's chest, his warm breath baking her skin through the wet fabric. "Otherwise, Draco might lose a little brother or sister."
"You... you little devil!"
"Damn you! Don't bite me!"
But as Narcissa was becoming lost in the sensation, Jerry suddenly bit down on her nipple and spoke:
"I believe you didn't come here purely to see Draco or me this time. That small package I gave you... it should have been brought into Hogwarts by now, right? As for the reason, would you like to tell me?"
The sudden sting made Narcissa shudder, a suppressed groan escaping her.
Pleasure and pain intertwined instantly, like two opposing torrents of magic crashing into her nerve endings, leaving her mind chaotic.
Jerry's teeth hadn't broken the skin, but the clear, punishing force was more humiliating to her than any evil curse.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about..."
Narcissa's voice was dry and raspy. She tried to deny it, but her body's honest reaction betrayed her.
Under the continuous teasing of Jerry's fingers, streams of heat gushed from between her legs, soaking the gaps between his fingers.
"You don't know?"