Hogwarts Adventure (Ch. 15)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Hogwarts Adventure

Chapter 15

Narcissa Malfoy strode through the deserted Hogwarts corridor with a sense of entitlement that had existed since childhood. Her glossy, black stilettos struck the stone floor at a measured pace, echoing off the ancient walls. The black, full-length fur coat she wore covered her from neck to ankles, and it complemented her powdered ivory skin perfectly. She had always despised this castle’s chill. Every step increased her irritation with the Scottish climate, and every puff of breath condensed in the frigid air.

She passed a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and paused to check her reflection in the dusty window just to the side of it. The moonlight gave her hair an ethereal silvery sheen. It cascaded smoothly and flawlessly over her shoulders. She swept a few stray strands behind her ear with a practiced gesture, humming quietly to herself. Her nerves were steady, but her mind was all over the place. This opportunity was unprecedented, and she didn’t want to mess it up. 

She reached Professor McGonagall’s private chambers at the far end of the corridor, past an ugly tapestry of trolls in tutus. Narcissa hesitated, composed herself, and rapped on the solid oak door. She could hear the scrape of a chair inside, the clinking of a bottle against glass. The door opened a moment later. Minerva McGonagall met her, not in her professional robes, but in a bottle-green dressing gown. Her hair was down like she was getting ready for bed. Her face lit with a genuine smile at the sight of her former student.

“Narcissa,” McGonagall said with warmth in her voice. “You braved the cold, I see. I hope the evening has found you well.” McGonagall knew very well how she hated the cold. 

Narcissa didn’t smile, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “It has indeed, Minerva. Thank you for receiving me so late.” She stepped inside, pausing to let McGonagall take her coat.

McGonagall’s room was simple but inviting. The walls were lined with bookshelves and photographs of past Transfiguration students, but most noticeably, there was a fire roaring in the hearth. As she slipped off her coat, Narcissa watched McGonagall’s reaction. The professor’s eyes narrowed in appraisal, then widened almost imperceptibly. Narcissa’s dress would be called scandalous by some. It was a sparkly cocktail dress cut from very expensive silk, and it clung to her body like a second skin. The neckline plunged, revealing the valley between her breasts. The deep V exposed her belly button and ended right before it reached her mound. Her tits looked to be on the verge of spilling out. The hem of her dress was cut so high that every movement threatened to be indecent.

McGonagall pursed her lips, but her gaze flickered with approval and amusement. “You never did care much for subtlety,” she remarked, gently hanging the fur coat on a stand.

“It is a meeting among friends, is it not?” Narcissa replied, settling herself gracefully into an armchair by the fire.

McGonagall poured wine and handed Narcissa a glass. She poured her own and sat opposite, crossing her legs with the careful modesty of a woman who still expected to be seen as an authority figure, even in her own private room. They sipped for a moment in companionable silence. Narcissa admired the logs crackling in the fire, and McGonagall watched the wine swirl in her glass. At last, McGonagall broke the silence. “You didn’t come all this way for a social call. What is it that you want, Narcissa?”

Narcissa leaned forward conspiratorially. “Harry Potter.”

McGonagall’s eyebrow arched. “Potter? What of him?”

Narcissa traced the rim of her glass with one finger. “What do you know of the boy’s…talents?” she asked.

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “Talents? He’s a capable wizard, if a bit unorthodox. He has a knack for leadership, though it sometimes borders on insubordination. He’s kind and a bit reckless, and he has a certain…magnetism, I suppose. The girls follow him everywhere.” She said this with a trace of dry Scottish humor and the hint of a smile.

Narcissa nodded, lips pursed. “Yes, the girls. It’s not just his classmates, I hear. His…magnetism is the talk of the staffroom, as well. I’ve heard rumors.”

McGonagall smiled, this time more broadly. “Rumors run rampant in Hogwarts. What’s he done now?”

Narcissa shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing untoward. At least, nothing anyone will admit. But there’s talk of his… prowess. Particularly in matters not related to spellwork.”

McGonagall actually laughed. “Who has been spreading such gossip?”

“Aurora Sinistra.”

McGonagall’s face froze, then softened. “Aurora?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She seemed both surprised and oddly pleased. “I would not have guessed.”

Narcissa swirled her wine, watching the deep red liquid run down the glass. “She said he is both prodigious and talented. As you well know, those are two words that are never used when describing a wizard’s bedroom activities.”

The fire popped. McGonagall considered this, sipping again. “Aurora has always had a very deep hunger for the opposite sex. Still, I thought her tastes inclined more toward older men.”

“She said she was impressed,” Narcissa pressed. “Very impressed. She called him a ‘once-in-a-century prodigy.’ Said she’d already brought him in for private lessons … if you know what I mean.”

McGonagall almost choked on her wine. “Typical Aurora,” she muttered, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “She has always been a flirt. Of course, nothing ever came of it. Men can be …”

“Clueless and useless,” Narcissa finished. “Don’t be afraid to speak the truth, Minerva.” Narcissa leaned back, crossing her legs with calculated elegance. Her dress rode up her thighs even higher. Had her legs not been crossed, McGonagall would have seen everything she had to offer. “Rumors aside, I would like to meet him. Alone.”

McGonagall set her glass down, peering over her glasses. “You did not come here on a whim, Narcissa. What is this about? Lucius?”

Narcissa’s eyes flickered, a momentary shadow. “Lucius has always been ineffective in the bedroom. Worthless is a better way to put it. Draco is away, as you know, and the house is empty. I have time, Minerva. Time and considerable curiosity.”

McGonagall let the silence stretch, her mind ticking through the implications. “You want me to arrange a meeting,” she said at last.

“Yes.”

McGonagall did not bother to ask why. They both knew the answer.

“Very well,” she said, standing to refill their glasses. She handed Narcissa her glass and met her gaze with a sly glint. “But you’ll owe me a favor.”

Narcissa’s lips parted in a slow, feline smile. “Of course. I’m nothing if not generous with friends.”

“Tell me, then,” McGonagall said, sitting back down and regarding Narcissa with new, appraising interest. “What is it you’re really after? Is it to see if the rumors are true? Are you perhaps trying to gain influence with him, or is it the thrill of simple pleasure?”

“Can’t it be all three?” Narcissa raised her glass and clinked it against McGonagall’s. The older woman couldn’t help but chuckle. 

They drank together while the fire hissed and crackled in the grate. McGonagall turned her head, watching Narcissa with an expression that was both stern and indulgent, the way she often regarded her favorite students. “You always did like a challenge,” she said quietly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Narcissa watched the firelight flicker on McGonagall’s spectacles. “Thank you, Minerva. I knew you would understand.”

The two women finished the bottle together, swapping stories about old students and mutual acquaintances. The talk was easy, and by the time Narcissa rose to leave, the air between them was thick with the promise of naughty secrets. McGonagall walked her to the door, stopping her just before the threshold. “I’ll write to you tomorrow. Be ready,” she said.

Narcissa nodded once, then swept down the corridor, leaving the scent of expensive perfume in her wake. McGonagall watched her go, then closed the door and leaned against it, enjoying the warmth from the fire and the wine. She smiled to herself, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

Hogwarts Adventure

The following night, Narcissa Malfoy returned to the castle. She moved through the corridors with even more purpose than before. The nervous anticipation of the previous evening was now even stronger. Her heels clicked faster as she quickened her pace. She wore the same black fur coat, but beneath it, she’d changed into something even less subtle—a clingy sapphire dress that looked painted on, with a neckline deep enough to leave nothing to the imagination. She strode past Nearly Headless Nick without pausing. She barely glanced at the portraits, and any student unfortunate enough to be on patrol would have melted under her icy stare. But the castle was thankfully empty, as McGonagall had promised.

The note in her hand was in Minerva’s own elegant handwriting. It contained a password, a suite number, and a warning. “He may not be alone.” Narcissa smiled as she read it again. She liked surprises.

She reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, whose pink face glistened with sweat even at this hour. Narcissa regarded her with mild contempt and recited the password. The Fat Lady, always eager for gossip, let her in with a wink and a hearty, “Best of luck.” Narcissa swept inside.

She had no memories of the Gryffindor common room. Slytherins never ventured here, not even on dares. She found the decor vulgar. The plush red drapes, tacky gold trim, and mismatched armchairs around the fire would not have been her first choice of decor. She wrinkled her nose at the warmth and the faint stench of old butterbeer. The room was empty, save for a few snoozing cats and an abandoned chessboard. She moved toward the suite entrance and checked her note.

Narcissa pushed through the entrance, her stilettos silent as she shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet. When she neared the door, she paused. The air smelled different here. It was a musky smell that overpowered the senses. Narcissa sniffed, surprised. It was the unmistakable, primal scent of sex.

She kept walking, following the smell with growing amusement. When she reached the correct door, she heard a soft moan from within. It sounded feminine and desperate. Narcissa’s eyebrows shot up. Minerva had said that he may not be alone, but Narcissa had thought that she was just teasing. She adjusted her fur coat, straightened her spine, and let herself in without knocking. The door swung open on silent hinges. The scent inside the room hit her like a physical blow. It was a heady blend of sweat, perfume, and the musky wetness of aroused women. Narcissa’s nose wrinkled, but she refused to flinch.

The room was large, with a king-sized bed in the center. The fire burned high in the grate, painting the walls with flickering orange light. Books and parchment were strewn across a desk, and the floor was scattered with discarded clothes.

Harry Potter stood in the center of the room, utterly naked. He was tall and well-built, with a head full of messy black hair. He held himself with the confidence of a boy who had never been denied anything. His face was flushed, his lips parted in a wordless gasp, and his green eyes were wild with desire.

On their knees, worshipping him, were two young women. Narcissa recognized the first instantly. Daphne Greengrass, the Girl Who Lived, was known to everyone. Narcissa had spoken to her many times at various parties. Daphne’s long black hair was tangled around Harry’s cock, her face buried in his abdomen. She was making slow, ravenous movements with her mouth. Her hands were curled around his hips. The second girl was a stranger. She was pretty, with mousy brown hair. Her mouth was open wide, and her tongue pressed flat against the underside of Harry’s shaft.

Narcissa’s first instinct was to sneer, but she stopped herself. She couldn’t deny the jealousy she instantly felt. Narcissa had spent so many years being denied what her body desperately craved, and now these two horny bints were having the time of their lives. They didn’t know what it was like to suffer. Instead of verbally lashing out, she leaned against the doorframe with an amused smile and watched them.

Daphne pulled back, gasping for air. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and her eyes flickered up to meet Narcissa’s. A flash of embarrassment crossed her face, followed by something like defiance. She didn’t say a word. Instead, she licked her lips and went back to work, sucking both of Harry’s testicles into her mouth and rolling them gently with her tongue. The stranger moaned, her voice thick with arousal, and began stroking Harry’s cock with both hands, twisting and squeezing expertly.

Harry himself seemed oblivious to the intrusion. He had his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and he was breathing hard. He brought one hand down to stroke the stranger’s hair, and the other to rest on Daphne’s shoulder. He let out a low, shuddering groan as both girls increased their tempo, hands and lips working in perfect unison.

Pure sexuality radiated throughout the room, and Narcissa felt her own heart thudding in her chest. It was no longer about jealousy, but hunger. She needed what they were getting. She watched as the stranger pulled away, her cheeks hollowed from the effort, and said, “Please, Harry, I want it in my mouth this time.” Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

“Daphne, tilt your head up,” Harry said, pulling gently on Daphne’s hair. She obeyed, crawling several inches back on her knees, and then she sat on her heels, breathing heavily. Her chest rose and fell, and her breasts were exposed and glistening with sweat.

Harry cupped the stranger’s face in both hands. He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. He murmured something Narcissa couldn’t hear, and the girl nodded eagerly. She opened her mouth wide and accepted the head of his cock, looking up at him with shining brown eyes.

Narcissa found herself captivated, unable to look away. A huge spurt of cum erupted into the stranger’s mouth, and she quickly swallowed it. Potter then angled his cock and shot another thick load into Daphne’s waiting mouth. He switched back and forth, sharing equally amongst them. Narcissa instinctively swallowed, desperately wanting to taste it for herself. She cleared her throat, finally. The sound was sharp and commanding. All three heads snapped toward her at once.

Daphne’s face blanched, then flushed crimson. She recognized Narcissa, of course, and was mortified to have been caught in such a position. The stranger let Harry’s cock slip from her lips, and she covered her chest with both arms, shrinking away. Harry was the last to react. He blinked, gathering his wits, and then grinned. His confidence was absolute. He made no move to hide his body.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said, almost lazily. “This is a surprise.” She wondered how he knew who she was. However, that wasn’t important at the moment. 

Narcissa tilted her head, watching his reaction. “It seems you are a difficult man to catch alone, Mr. Potter.” She emphasized the word “alone”. “I would like a private conversation.”

Harry glanced at the two girls, then at Narcissa. He raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Yes, now … if you wouldn’t mind,” Narcissa politely replied.

Daphne started to protest, but Narcissa silenced her with a look. “I believe you’ve had your fun for the evening, Miss Greengrass. Please take your friend and leave.”

Daphne flushed again, but she didn’t argue. She stood, gathering her clothes in one hand and the other girl’s wrist in the other. The stranger looked lost for a moment, but then followed Daphne’s lead. She shot Harry an apologetic look, then scurried past Narcissa with her head down. 

Narcissa watched them go, then closed the door with a soft click. She turned to face Harry. He moved to the bed and lay down with his hands behind his head, unapologetically exposed. He watched her stare at his erect cock with a smirk.

Narcissa’s mouth went dry at the sight of his cock. It wasn’t the limp, pathetic appendage that she was used to seeing. It was long, thick, and as hard as a rock. Thick veins crisscrossed the shaft, and the head looked like it might tear her in two. His legs were slightly parted, and she could see his huge balls draped on the bedsheet. 

Narcissa's mouth went dry at the sight of it. It was nothing like Lucius's limp, pale, and unimpressive sprout she’d endured out of obligation and marital duty for over twenty years. Even on the exceedingly rare moments when Lucius managed to get it up, it always looked sad and apologetic, like it was embarrassed to be there. But this? This was something else. Harry Potter’s cock jutted from his body like it was proud to be seen.

It was huge. It looked almost comical on his athletic body, as if someone had conjured it from another species and affixed it to him as a prank. Veins wormed along its length. The head was swollen, deep pink, and shiny, like it was ready to burst. He lay back on the bed, legs slightly parted, and propped his head up on one hand. His balls were impossible to miss. They were large, low-hanging, and the color of fresh cream.

Harry didn’t try to cover himself. If anything, he casually adjusted to make sure she had an unobstructed view. His lips quirked up into a smile. “Now, what can I do for you, Mrs. Malfoy?” His tone was infuriating. He sounded confident, bored, and slightly mocking, as if he already knew why she was here and he just wanted to hear her say it.

Narcissa realized she’d stopped moving. Her hands trembled, and she couldn’t think of a single clever response. For a moment, she was furious at herself. She’d faced down dirty, greasy men in Knockturn Alley, intimidated entire boards of governors, and withered men twice her size with a single word. Now she was tongue-tied by a young man and his monstrous prick. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but a little choking noise. She coughed delicately and tried again. “I …” Her voice cracked, so she started over. “I heard you were expecting me.”

“Professor McGonagall gave me a heads-up.” Harry’s eyes never left her face, but she could feel him inspecting every square inch of her body through the black fur. Narcissa tried to reclaim the upper hand. She shrugged off the coat, letting it slide down her arms and onto the floor. The cold air hit her bare shoulders, and goosebumps rose along her skin, but she held herself as if she hadn’t noticed.

She’d chosen a dress that she hoped would impress. It was midnight blue with glittering flecks that caught the firelight. The neckline was nearly to her navel. Her breasts were pushed high and tight, and the fabric barely contained them. The hem of her dress flirted with indecency. Her legs were long, smooth, and so pale they almost glowed.

Harry let out a low whistle. “Wow.” He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring. She felt the burn of his gaze as he took in every detail, from her perky tits to her trembling thighs. Her cheeks flushed, but she squared her shoulders and tried to look intimidating.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to stare?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not really,” Harry said, grinning. “One look at this and women usually give me anything I want,” he told her, giving his massive cock a quick stroke. Narcissa swallowed loudly as she openly stared at it, completely forgetting what she had just told him. He patted the mattress next to him. “Why don’t you get comfortable?”

Narcissa hesitated, her mind still reeling. She sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a polite distance, but Harry, with the lazy confidence of a tiger who’d already cornered his prey, reached over and put a hand on her thigh. His palm was broad, warm, and his fingers pressed just hard enough to let her know he could break her composure with the lightest squeeze. She tried to suppress a shudder, but it came anyway. Harry’s hand slid higher, just above her knee. He leaned back and let his cock rest along his stomach. It looked even bigger up close, and the heavy, musky scent of arousal in the room was now unmistakable.

“So,” Harry said, “What brings you to my room?”

Narcissa’s mind scrambled for an answer. She felt the words slipping out, clumsy and unplanned. “Aurora Sinistra is an old friend,” she blurted. “She … she told me about your… night together.”

Harry’s lips curled into a full-on smirk. “Did she?” He tilted his head. “What did she say?”

Narcissa tried to control her breathing. She thought of the rumors Aurora had whispered to her over cocktails, and the way she’d described Harry’s prowess in bed. Narcissa had thought it was an exaggeration. Aurora was prone to melodrama. Now she understood it was an understatement.

“She said you were…” Narcissa searched for the right word and failed. “Prodigious.”

Harry grinned. “That’s a good word.” He squeezed her thigh, just above the hem of her dress. “And do you think she was lying?”

Narcissa’s mouth went dry again. “I don’t think she was lying,” she said, and her voice came out soft, barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, so close she could smell the heat of his skin. “You want to find out for yourself,” he said, not a question but a statement. Narcissa wanted to deny it. Instead, she found herself nodding.

Harry brushed her hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. “Take off your shoes,” he said. Not a command, but an invitation. Narcissa slipped off one heel, then the other, trying to keep her movements smooth and deliberate, but she was shaking.

Harry slid his hand up her thigh and beneath her dress, his palm hot against her skin. She shivered and let her knees fall open slightly, instinctively inviting him closer. Harry’s other hand traced her collarbone, lingering at the hollow of her throat. He seemed to delight in how little resistance she gave.

“Do you want me to stop?” he murmured. She shook her head, unable to speak.

Harry moved his hand higher, his thumb grazing the delicate, shaven edge of her mound. She gasped as his knuckle brushed her clit through the thin fabric of her panties. The touch was feather-light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of energy up her spine. It was better than anything Narcissa had ever experienced. She couldn’t believe she was letting another man touch her, but his hands, his mouth, the promise of that thick cock…it all overwhelmed her. She arched into his touch, desperate for more.

Harry leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft, but his mouth was hungry. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, then her chest, slowly working his way down until his face was buried in the curve between her breasts. Narcissa tilted her head back and moaned. The sound surprised her. She was not a woman who made noise in bed, but Harry coaxed it out of her with every touch. He slid the strap of her dress down, exposing one nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, tongue swirling, and she felt herself getting wet … soaked, actually. Her panties were clinging to her skin.

He pulled back, licking his lips. “Your perfume smells expensive,” he said, nipping at her skin. “It’s really nice.”

Narcissa let out a shaky laugh. “Everything I own is expensive,” she said, trying to regain some measure of control.

Harry smirked, then yanked her onto the mattress, spinning her so she was straddling his lap. She gasped as his cock pressed against her. She could feel the heat of it, even through her panties. The sensation was obscene. The head of his cock pushed against the wet silk, grinding along her slit. He looked up at her, his hands cupping her hips. “You want to ride it, don’t you?”

She should have slapped him. Instead, she nodded. Harry’s hands found the hem of her dress and tugged it up around her waist. Narcissa blushed furiously, but she raised her arms, letting him pull it over her head. She was left in only her tiny black panties. Her bare breasts were high and firm, and her nipples were pink and hard. Harry looked at her like she was a Christmas present. He grabbed her ass, squeezing both cheeks, then guided her down, rubbing her wetness against his cock. She shuddered and rocked her hips forward, grinding on him. Every little movement dragged the head of his cock against her clit, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Harry chuckled, sounding pleased. “You’re soaked,” he said. “And I haven’t even put it in yet.”

She glared at him, but she was breathless. He lowered his mouth to her nipple, biting it softly and making her gasp. She rocked on him harder, needing more.

Harry held her gaze, his eyes bright with mischief. “Now, what exactly did Aurora tell you about our night together?” he asked. Narcissa tried to answer, but all that came out was a shudder. Instead, she ground herself down against him, her clit pressed flat against the firm head of his cock. The sensation was so sharp and hot that she lost all sense of the room. Her lips parted in a silent gasp.

Harry watched her struggle, clearly entertained. “Not much of a conversationalist right now, are you?” He moved his hands up her thighs, gripping them tightly. He then ran them along the backs of her legs and up under the curve of her ass. She was trembling.

She tried again, barely managing, “I … oh god!” She rocked forward, pressing her soaked panties against the length of his shaft. The friction set her nerves on fire. She started moving on instinct, hips making small, rapid circles as she used him. She hadn’t realized how empty she’d been for years. Now her pussy throbbed with a need she’d forgotten she had.

Harry slid both hands up and cupped her ass, kneading it through the fabric. She felt his fingertips dig into the meat of her, holding her right where he wanted. The sensation was rough, almost animalistic. He squeezed hard enough to make her cry out.

“Potter,” she tried to warn, but it came out as a moan. Narcissa was a delicate pureblood princess, and she wasn’t used to being treated like a common whore. 

He smiled up at her, then hooked his fingers under the crotch of her panties. In one swift motion, he yanked them aside, the fabric digging into the crease of her thigh. The sudden cool air on her exposed pussy made her shiver. He ran his finger along her slit, gathering up the wetness, and then brought it to her mouth. Narcissa leaned forward and sucked his finger down to the hilt, tasting herself on his skin. When she realized what she had just done, her cheeks went bright red. She’d never been this humiliated, and it was making her even wetter.

He lined up the head of his cock with her opening, dragging it along her slit, then tapping at her entrance. She could feel every ridge, every vein. It was inhumanly thick, and the thought of taking it all made her knees go weak. She tried to brace herself, but Harry just kept teasing, smearing her wetness up and down the shaft.

“Ready?” he asked, like it was something he did every day. Little did she know that he did do this every single day. 

She tried to glare at him for teasing her, but her voice cracked and betrayed her. “Do it,” she breathlessly demanded. Harry’s hands shot to her hips, and he pulled her down in a single motion.

Narcissa cried out. The head of his cock split her open, stretching her wider than she’d thought possible. Her body spasmed as she struggled to adjust. She could feel every inch as Harry buried himself inside her, not stopping until she was pressed flush against his pelvis. Her body tried to cope, clenching involuntarily, but he was patient. He stroked her back and whispered sweet things into her ear.

“Fuck,” she hissed, “fuck, fuck …” Narcissa didn’t normally use such vulgarity, but she figured that this was a special occasion. She held still, panting, while her thighs quivered. Harry leaned up and kissed her again. This time it was softer and sweeter. It was a strange contrast to what was happening between her legs. She looked at Harry and saw him staring at her jiggling tits. She couldn’t stop the blush from forming on her porcelain cheeks. 

Her breasts were perfect. They were milky white in the firelight, with pink areolas the size of a galleon coin. They were high on her chest and round. They were full but not overly heavy and tipped with small, pointed nipples already hard as rocks.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Harry said, and it sounded so sincere that Narcissa’s face heated up.

He cupped both tits, weighing them in his palms. He then pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger, twisting gently. Narcissa moaned and arched her back, pushing her chest into his hands. She’d always been sensitive, but this was different. Every bit of pleasure was felt all throughout her body. She started to move slowly, rocking her hips forward and back. The stretch burned, but she was so needy that she couldn’t stop. She set a rhythm, sliding up until she was almost off him, then slamming back down, the impact making her tits bounce.

Harry grabbed her waist, guiding and encouraging her. She could tell he was holding back, letting her set the pace, but it only made her crazier. She rode him hard, faster and faster, until the slap of her ass against his thighs echoed in the room. Her hair stuck to her face with sweat. It was like she couldn’t breathe or see. The only thing important was the delicious sting of his hands on her skin. Harry reached up and placed his hand on her neck to hold her steady. “Take it all,” he encouraged her.

She did. She bottomed out, grinding in circles, the head pressed right up against her womb. Her pussy throbbed. It was so tight it almost hurt, but it felt so good she couldn’t stop. She was close. She could feel it building in waves, each one better than the last. Harry must have known, because he let go of her neck and used both hands to squeeze her tits together. He then bent forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting down just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure through her chest.

That was all it took. Narcissa came so hard she forgot her own name. Her body convulsed, and her hips jerked uncontrollably as she screamed. Her pussy gripped him, milking his cock in pulsing spasms. She came and came, a rush of wetness pouring out and coating him. Harry held her tight, riding out every aftershock. He licked her nipples and whispered filth into her ear. She collapsed against his chest, limp, shaking, and spent. Harry stroked her back gently while Narcissa squeaked and squealed through the never-ending orgasm. When she finally came down, she wanted to retake control, but all she could do was cling to him, panting. He kissed her forehead, then her lips, then her neck.

“Was it everything you hoped?” Harry whispered cheekily.

Narcissa shivered and laughed. It was almost hysterical. “More,” she managed.

Harry just smiled happily, still hard inside her. He rolled her off, pulling her close so she was spooned against him, his cock still buried deep in her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand splayed across her stomach. Narcissa lay there, heart pounding, with Harry Potter’s cock still inside her. Narcissa squealed loudly when he started fucking her again. From what Aurora had said, Narcissa knew this was likely to go on all night. It was exactly what she had hoped for. She already planned to stay until morning, and maybe even longer. She didn’t care what Minerva would say. She didn’t care what Lucius would say. She had what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to give it up.