Chapter 3. Priest of Aphrodite
Lucius Malfoy is a shrewd man. He's not easily fooled. And his instincts tell him that this is exactly what the Greengrasses are trying to do.
They are attempting to deceive him with this disgusting incestuous charade, all to derail the betrothal between the Greengrass girl and Draco. To even suggest such a thing—to hint at a brother and sister engaging in something so revolting—speaks of desperation. And that is what Lucius cannot fathom.
The Malfoys are not beggars scrambling to marry above their station. Malfoys and Greengrasses alike are old, prestigious clans, their bloodlines stretching back a thousand years. Lucius has always considered their families equals in terms of heritage, hence the betrothal proposal.
And yet, for some reason, the Greengrasses do not seem to share this view. They recoil from the offer as if it were beneath them. Which was puzzling, for in recent times, the Malfoys are inarguably the more powerful house, blessed with both immense wealth and the Dark Lord's favour.
The Parkinsons are practically on their knees, all but throwing their daughter at Draco. Yet here are the Greengrasses, willing to spin vile tales of incest rather than seize the golden opportunity with both hands.
This drama cannot go on much longer. Today, he will set them straight. Today, they will learn to bow and bend.
It isn't merely instinct that alerts him to their treachery. He has long known that Lady Nott answers to Lady Greengrass. He has seen the woman bumbling about, attempting to 'subtly' pry into whether the betrothal idea came from the Dark Lord himself.
Of course, it had not. The idea was Lucius'. This is hardly the first time he has leveraged the Dark Lord's name to browbeat other families into submission.
On some level, he's always known the Greengrasses look down on them, that they think themselves better. That must be why he tried to intimidate them into that betrothal contract. It was a clever manoeuvre, if he says so himself. The might of the Dark Lord has cornered them, and they won't dare defy him, no matter how old and wealthy they are. In the face of pure magical might, everyone is a slave.
Now that he's coerced Lady Nott to relay false information, he's assured the Greengrasses won't try to weasel out this time. And if they foolishly keep on with the distasteful act, he'd demand proof. He'd force them to mate right in front of him if they don't accept the generous offer!
Their downfall is overdue. They've been stuck-up for too long. To even dare look down on the Malfoys. If he weren't sincere in his wish to marry a good, pureblood girl to his son, he would defile Damian's daughters himself and show them the error of their ways.
He halts before the ornate fireplace, squeezing his cane to force back his rage. No, no, that is beneath him. He's not some uncivilised fiend taking joy in tormenting others' daughters. Daphne Greengrass is going to be his own daughter-in-law. He will not harbour resentment towards her. He will treat her like family. He will shower her with love and affection once this difficult process is over. He always wanted a daughter, after all.
He walks into the bright green flames and steps out from another fireplace, into the antechamber of Greengrass Mansion.
A heady blend of rose and some exotic oil drifts through the air, drawing him towards the source of the divine fragrance.
Lady Greengrass is waiting for him, dressed in an elegant blue dress, the fabric clinging to her buxom body. Her light blonde hair is coiffed and braided down her shoulder, and her neckline is deeper than usual. His gaze inadvertently slides down her slender neck, to her ample chest.
His loins stir at the visual feast, at the intoxicating whisper of her scent. He wonders if her skin would taste as sweet as it smells.
'Enough,' he curses himself. He's a loyal man married to the most beautiful woman. He would not be entranced by someone else. He's here for business, not to gawk at her like an infatuated teenage boy.
Usually, that reminder alone is enough to rein in his mind. It's true, after all. Narcissa is just… perfect. But today, Proserpina Greengrass seems just a tad more attractive than his gorgeous wife, becoming something more than perfect.
"Lord Malfoy." She smiles and offers a shallow bow. "We know you were coming, but not when. I hope it's a short visit. We are busy at the moment."
His eyes narrow at her, desire squashed by indignation. She dares to demand his departure! Who does she think she is?
Glaring at her, his eyes locked with her frigid blue ones, he cannot muster enough anger, desire winning over indignation. She looks too beautiful. The deep shade of her red lipstick distracts his mind. He cannot help but keep looking at her painted lips, at her plump, small mouth.
He shakes his head, getting irritated with himself. 'Stop getting sidetracked.'
"I'm afraid you'll have to clear up your schedule," he says, walking over to her, tapping his cane on the marble floor with every step. "I bring important news."
"Oh dear." She sighs, her hand on her chest, his gaze on her chest. "Please tell me the dark lord isn't going to force a marriage between your son and my daughter. It's too late for that."
"I wouldn't say force, Lady Greengrass." He scoffs, clasping his arms behind his back. "Do you know how many families would beg for a union with my son? Yet, I'm adamant about the quality. Your eldest is perfect for my son. Not only is she from the most noble family, but she's also beautiful and courteous. Draco has nothing but praise for her. He even tells me she's never been entangled with boys, always focused on her studies and her family. She'll undoubtedly make a good wife."
"Your compliments warm my heart, my lord." She smiles, though there's a hint of nervousness beneath it. "But she's besotted with her brother—with Alaric. That's why she was never interested in other boys; she already had one. I… I wouldn't risk our lives by denying this betrothal. If we're forced, we'll comply. But do you truly want a girl whose heart belongs to another man… one who's no longer a maiden?"
Lucius turns green at the image, bile rising in his throat. Why? Why are they going so far to deceive him? Is Draco not clever and handsome enough? Are the Malfoys not prestigious enough?
He decides to be frank, tightening his grip on the cane. "Tell me, why? Why do you keep lying, Proserpina? Why do you continue to dishonour your daughter? My patience wears thin. No one will ask for her hand if this sordid play of yours becomes known. Tell me, what is it that you think we are lacking?"
"Apologies, my lord," she murmurs, rubbing her face. "It seems I have no choice but to show you the proof. I cannot allow you to believe we are liars or that we are disrespecting you. Please, follow me. And brace yourself."
Lucius' brow furrows, and he trails after her, his gaze often falling on the sway of her ample backside.
That word really suits her. Ample.
'What's wrong with me today? I'm usually in more control than this.'
They go past the door to the living room. She leads him to the left wing, through the long white hallway. Then she stops before an unassuming door. Turning around, she looks between him and the door, her mouth twisted in a grimace. At last, she squares her shoulders and opens the door slightly.
First come the cursed sounds: the slap of flesh hitting flesh, of laborious breaths and heated moans, of bestial grunts and profane talk.
Then comes the cursed sight.
Lucius can't help himself; he peeks into the room and wishes he hadn't.
The room is dark except for the bed, as if a spotlight is directed on the unholy union.
His potential daughter-in-law is on her hands and knees as the bed creaks from the rough coupling. She's facing the door, but her eyes are closed. Her beautiful pale body shines in the light, while her brother plows into her from behind, each thrust sending her lurching forward. But Alaric has her hair in his grip, his other hand under her belly, preventing her from planting her face in the mattress.
Alaric yanks on her hair, so she now rises to her knees, back pressed against his chest, moaning lewdly, her bare breasts bouncing and colliding.
The boy smacks her arse and then squeezes it, yelling, "Who's your daddy!?"
"Mister Damian Greengrass?" The girl says hesitantly, her tone innocent, biting her lip, her hands clawing at her own breasts.
…
…
"That's 'father', Daph." Alaric chortles, slowing down with his animalistic thrusts, kissing her neck. "I am your daddy, you hear me? Let's try again."
He spanks her again and paws her backside. "Who's your daddy, love!?"
"You! Spank me harder, daddy!"
'What in Merlin's name is going on here?' Lucius wants to gouge his eyes out. He wants to deafen himself. This is too much. Even the dark lord would flee from this cursed scene.
Proserpina closes the door and stares at him. Without a word, she spins around and leads him back to the antechamber.
Lucius follows her with a blank face, his mind in turmoil. He's filled with disgust and horror… and a bit of arousal. "Your family is beyond saving."
"Do you still want to marry Daphne to Draco?" Proserpina asks wryly, apparently unashamed of what her children are doing behind closed doors.
Maybe she would even join them, copulating with her own son and daughters.
Before, he'd think it's too depraved for a sane individual. But he's learning the Greengrasses are anything but sane.
"No." Lucius growls, still unable to believe people like these exist. "Keep your boy away from mine. None of you are fit for society. Particularly him. He's a retard who'll ruin everything and might lead other boys astray and teach them to lust after their own sisters and mothers. Draco had nothing but contempt when I asked him about your boy. Now I can see why. It's better that your family only fund us behind the scenes than be openly seen with us. It would be a catastrophe once your misdeeds become public."
"Now, now, no need for petty insults."
Lucius takes a last peek at her cleavage and stomps back into the fireplace, flooing home, swearing never to be in their close vicinity again in case their mental illness is infectious.
They truly are sickening.
~xXxXx~
Proserpina watches as Lucius Malfoy disappears in the fireplace. A weight seems to lift off her shoulders, and she breathes easier.
Finally, they're free. At last, her family isn't in immediate danger. The storm cloud has dissipated, and they've survived unscathed.
It took sacrifices on her half, of course—humiliating sacrifices. But the end result is worth it. Now, she has the power to rewrite people's memories. A strong gift from her son's ridiculous lottery system.
She winces as the memories of the last night jump to the forefront of her mind. She actually went to Alaric's room and stripped to her knickers. She allowed him to see her in that near-naked state. She let him grab her breast. He played with her chest as if they were lovers. He embraced her as if they weren't a mother and son.
It was thoroughly revolting, the passionate touch of her son. But she knows when to step out of her comfort zone to accomplish her goals.
That's what she did. Nothing less and nothing more. A task that benefitted them in the end.
Reasonably, she'd like to rewrite Alaric's memories and erase her shameful act from his mind. But her usually half-witted son had a rare moment of cleverness and bound her with an Unbreakable Vow in front of the entire family. He demanded that she never toy with their memories before he would hand her the orb containing this new power.
Of course, Alaric could have consumed the orb himself and taken the power for his own, never needing such assurances. But he knew who was best suited for this ability, who excelled in the mind arts and could wield it effortlessly.
Thus, Proserpina was chosen to possess the power of the orb, giving a binding oath in return to never manipulate the memories of her son, daughters, or husband.
"Is it done?" Alaric swaggers into the antechamber, his gaze immediately dripping over her body like some loathsome oil she couldn't scrub away.
This time, she would allow the breach in proper etiquette. He has earned himself a bit of leeway. Plus, she's wearing the magical perfume that amplifies her appeal to the opposite sex. It was meant to keep Malfoy distracted and easier to exploit. Now, it does the same for her son. Not that he needs that excuse. Even before the perfume, Alaric hadn't been subtle in his barefaced ogling.
"Yes." She pushes a finger under his chin and tips his gaze away from her deep neckline. "Your lack of decorum has earned you your freedom. Neither do they want Daphne as a bride nor you as a foot soldier. Rejoice, boy, your silly trick worked."
He grins, sliding an arm around her waist, keeping an open palm on her lower back, her chest brushing against his. "Did you create that exact memory I asked you to?"
She stiffens in his hold but doesn't push him back, opting to rest her hands on his shoulders. "Yes, I did. Was that really necessary? The bit with 'daddy'? Wouldn't the sight of your and Daphne's naked, entangled body be enough to scare him away?"
"Necessary? No. Funny? Fuck yes."
She sighs and gently pries his arm off her back. "I… I thank you, Alaric. I always thought you were nothing but a disappointment. But you've proven me wrong. You're still a disgraceful lech, but at least you have your uses."
His lips stretch into a wide smile. "Was that a compliment, mother? While lovely, I prefer gratitude in blowjobs."
It's unfortunate that she's getting used to his crude diction. Before, she'd have slapped his face raw. Now, she can only keep sighing. "Keep that up and you'll always remain alone. Be more… gentlemanly, boy. You have inherited a beautiful face and a graceful body. Do not tarnish them with your primitive attitude."
"I have you. Do I need anyone else?" His arms coil around her waist like a noose as he draws her closer, as he nuzzles her neck and inhales her scent.
She shivers and shoves him away. "Enough, Alaric. I keep ignoring your impropriety because you're proving useful. But do not test me further. I have a limit. I do not like to be grabbed like a piece of meat."
"Sorry. So should I take you on a date first?" He keeps up with his terrible jokes. "Should I wine and dine you before bedding you?"
"I'm afraid I'm married and loyal." She brushes past him, already feeling a migraine setting in. Why does he always have to be so difficult? "And before you ask, yes, Damian is aware of what we did last night. And no, there won't be a repeat. My task to safeguard our family is done. I do not care if you can masturbate or not. Or what your power grants you for that."
"I see. I understand." His quick acceptance makes her skip a step.
She whirls around and stares at him. "Really? You won't try to push boundaries? To have a repeat of last night?"
She cannot believe it. Her son is a lech through and through. He's had a small taste of the forbidden fruit. Would he truly not try for another bite?
"I mean, I won't blind my eyes. I'll keep looking at you," he confesses with his usual shamelessness. "But other than that, I won't try anything like I did just now. I'm not some evil sicko, you know. I thought you were a tsundere. Apparently not. Even though you're a bitch with a thick stick up her arse, I do care for you. I won't make you uncomfortable. Well, more than the usual."
"Good." She manages with a small smile, ignoring whatever 'Tsundere' is. "I feel the same. Even though you're an intellectually challenged ape, I cherish you deeply. Never forget that."
With that said, she turns around and walks away.
~xXxXx~
That's probably the sweetest thing she's ever said to me. Will it cure my mommy issues? Nope. Too little, too late. But maybe I'll be more cordial with her next time. Maybe.
'Perhaps you could be a good boy and treat her as a mother rather than eye candy, Master,' Brian suggests.
'Why not both?'
My lips twitch at his groan.
I'm proud of her for executing the plan without a hitch. Ideally, I'd have consumed the orb myself and gained a new ability, but I have no delusions of mind-fucking Malfoy with my paltry strength and skill. It had to be her, unfortunately. She's the strongest magical in the family.
At least I managed to secure an Unbreakable Vow from her—that she wouldn't mess with my memories. Because she definitely would, if only to erase the evidence of our lovely night.
Nope, not allowed. The memory of her nudity is to be treasured, not forgotten. I finally know what fondling a magnificent tit feels like. I want to imprint that sensation in my very soul. I never want to lose it.
With that satisfying thought tucked away, I move on. The rest of the day passes in my sisters' company.
We have a feast at night. The dinner table is noisier than ever. Astoria and I jabber away at each other, throwing dirty jokes one after another, curious to see how much it takes for Daphne to explode. Mother and father are busy themselves, muttering about the impact of today's event, planning to have a meeting with Dumbledore in case they need to change sides and beg for safety.
I ignore their boring discussion, of course. Astoria is far more interesting with her sharp tongue.
Once dinner is done, I retire to my room and sleep early. I do not wank. I didn't even in the morning. The entire day I've been wank-free. The reason is simple. I can feel the 'slump' circling around my mental space like ravenous vultures. One more wank and they'll swoop in and gorge on my joy. I'll fall into a numb mental state that will last for days, where nothing will excite me, sexually or otherwise. So I do the safe thing and give it a rest, recharging.
Tomorrow, in the morning, I'll see if I'm back to my 'peppy' mood.
~xXxXx~
Silver Gacha Ticket Gained!
Rolling!
Trait Gained!
[Renown] (Uncommon Trait)
— You are quite well known, aren't you? The news of your exploits and accomplishments travel fast. And the effect on your reputation is slightly increased. If you saved a village even the king may learn about it and decide to reward you. Your reputation is always well known if possible.
Not bad, I think. It's not directly useful, but I won't say no to fame and glory.
'You do realise there's a good chance everyone will now call you Sister-fucker?' Brian pipes up. 'The description doesn't say it will only propagate a good reputation. Now, any great thing you do, everyone may know. And fucking your sister is great—terrible, but great.'
'As if I care.' I wave off his concern, playing along. 'And your incestophobia is showing, Brian. Terrible? No, fucking my sisters is just great. There's nothing bad about it. Please be more mindful of others' feelings next time. We need to be more sensitive and careful with such outdated views.'
'Apologies, master. I'll try to be better next time,' comes his dry response.
~xXxXx~
Platform Nine and Three-quarters is already bustling with people when we floo there. That's probably on us for being late.
'More specifically on you, master. You should've packed your things by yesterday.'
I ignore Brian's voice and shove through the crowd, making way for my sisters. Hushed, and sometimes, loud expletives are thrown at me as I spear towards the train, disrupting anyone foolish enough to stand in my way. Thankfully, I have thick skin and an infuriating smile.
Soon, we board the train and find ourselves an empty compartment.
"The window seat is mine!" I leap forward and claim it, sitting down quickly.
The train whistles and leaves the station. We barely made it.
"You're such a child." Daphne chuckles and sits opposite me, taking the other window seat, looking radiant in a sleeveless green dress. Her long blonde hair is styled in the fashion similar to mother's, half-braided and half-loose.
"More like a toddler." Astoria plops beside me after closing the compartment doors, fitted in muggle denims and a cute pink blouse.
I ruffle her hair, snickering as she slaps my hand away. "It's ironic coming from the youngling."
"Don't touch my hair, Al. And can you even spell ironic?" She flips open a hand mirror and meticulously fixes her bangs, her eyebrows scrunched in concentration.
"I'd rather not stoop so low to be baited by that." I rummage through my pockets and fish out the [Gale Force Reading Glasses] and put them on. "I have better things to do."
It's a long train ride. So it's reasonable that I read through my entire syllabus before we even reach the castle. Heh. I'll have so much free time after I'm done with this chore. I can think of thousands of things to do if I'm not held back by the syllabus. I cannot help but smile blissfully.
"That smile is creepy." Astoria shudders, elbowing me in the side. "What evil are you scheming?"
"Believe it or not, I was actually thinking of being productive." I unshrink my bag and toss a stack of subject books onto my lap. "If I can blitz through all this before we even get to school, I can spend the rest of the year doing what I do best. Being lazy."
…
…
The sudden silence makes me look up. Both Daphne and Astoria are staring at me in awe. Particularly at my glasses.
"Brother dearest," Astoria scrambles onto her knees and cups my face, stroking my cheek lovingly. "I assume you won't mind lending them to me."
"Of course not, dearest sister. I don't mind at all. Once I'm done, you can have them." I hold her face in return, brushing my thumb across her pink lips. "How will you pay, though? They don't come cheap."
"Will anal suffice?" She offers coyly.
"Oka—"
Daphne smacks our heads with a rolled-up magazine, towering over us with her hands on her hips, blushing furiously. "Do you never get tired of being crude and inappropriate?"
We giggle like lunatics and drop the act. "As long as you keep reacting like that, it will never not be funny. But jokes aside, you two can have them as soon as I read through my books."
"Thank you." Daphne retakes her seat. "It will be exhausting to act like we're in a relationship in front of the whole school. The least you two can do is allow me moments of peace when we're alone."
Right. The work wasn't done after that meeting with Malfoy. It has only begun. Now that we've chosen our lie, we'll have to sell it for as long as the war goes on. We have to pretend we're lovestruck fools.
Won't it draw horror and disgust from everyone else? Won't it isolate us from the rest of the students? Probably. But we've always been loners, preferring each other's company over so-called 'friends'. It won't be anything new. The safety from more betrothal contracts is worth the seclusion.
"Before you start studying, can you go fetch me some sweets from the trolley lady?" Astoria tugs at my sleeve, giving me her best puppy eyes.
It works like a charm.
"Sure." I shrug, rising to my feet. "Do you need something too, Daph?"
"Chocolate frogs and Cauldron Cakes, please."
Sliding the compartment door open, I pick a direction and walk… and think, unfortunately.
Thinking makes me depressed.
My rolls have gone back to being shit. Yesterday, I rolled two things. The [Renown] trait in the morning and [A pair of very comfortable socks] item at night. The first was good, but the second made me want to punch someone. Preferably not myself.
[A pair of very comfortable socks] (Trash Item)
— Very comfortable, if you managed to roll this out of every treasure of the multiverse inside of the gacha you deserve pity.
Is it farfetched to assume I may have gotten a luck boost because I had my mother present during that rewarding wank? Because I got a bloody legendary roll then. Was that random? Or was that because I had a naked milf with me? The only way to confirm this hypothesis is by wanking again with someone's assistance. BUT, neither do I have a girlfriend nor a desperate mother. What am I to—
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I bump into someone and send them stumbling forward.
The girl totters a little before regaining her balance, gripping the handle of a compartment door for support. She wheels around and glowers at me.
Dark, ebony hair. A comely face. A pair of enraged hazel eyes. And a massive pair of tits.
Damn. I glance at her chest again.
Impressive.
Actually, they're not truly gigantic like my mother's, but her body is so thin and lean that her relatively large breasts grab and hold my attention. Like now. Like, wow.
"Even with glasses, Alaric," she snaps, crossing her arms under her chest, "you can't seem to see where you're going. Replace them, and maybe even your lecherous eyes. Being blind might suit you."
"Good to see you too, Tracey. And I apologise. I was lost in my thoughts."
Tracey Davis is in my year, and we occasionally get paired during the Potions class. That's about it, the extent of our relationship. We're not friends per se, but she's more amiable than anyone else. Which is sad, because those tits are really amazing. I wouldn't mind being more than not-friends.
The fight leaves her, and she waves me away. "Whatever. Go ahead. I don't want you bumping behind me again. I doubt I'd be able to catch myself this time."
Wait, she's leaning awkwardly, putting all her weight on the right leg.
"You alright?" I ask, glancing at her left leg. Since she's wearing maroon slacks, I can't see if she's bruised or something.
"I tripped while getting on the train, nearly diving through the gap and landing on the tracks beneath." She facepalms, sounding angry and embarrassed. "I'll have to visit Madam Pomfrey and see if I broke something."
Now's my chance to shine and impress her!
"No need." I spread my arms in a grandiose manner, grinning. "I'm here."
"Wha—"
I don't give her a chance to question me and begin my bullshit incantation.
"Oh, Lady Aphrodite! Hear the desperate pleas of your humble, handsome servant!" My open palms flare with the golden light of the sacred gear. Sparks crackle like divine glitter around my rings.
"Bestower of bosoms, goddess of thicc curves and cosmic mercy!
Let your pillowy, magnificent, voluptuous chest be the conduit of your holy power!
Allow me, your most unworthy medium, to channel your blessings!
Oh, radiant Queen of Sexiness! Shine upon me, flow through me like breast milk, and touch this mortal vessel!
Before you lies one such flower, weak and fragile and truly buxom—let your divine essence pour into her!
Heal her, uplift her, HALLELUJAH!"
I raise my voice higher, because louder clearly equals more effective. The air shimmers, and the glow envelops her entire body before slowly fading.
…
…
…
…
Tracey is still gaping at me.
It's getting tiring to keep a wide, jawbreaking smile. "Try to walk, darling."
She blinks and puts her ailing foot down. Her eyes widen, and she paces back and forth, first slowly and then swiftly. "That bloody worked! How?"
"I'm a priest of Lady Aphrodite. Of course I know how to heal." I throw my arm around her neck, leading her towards the Trolley Lady far ahead. I assume that's where she was headed.
She doesn't push me away, still flabbergasted. "Isn't it Apollo who has the domain of healing in Greek myths?"
"Semantics. He's not sexy enough to become my patron. He doesn't have breasts."
That brings her to her senses, and she shoves me away, laughing. "Of course. That's your criteria for joining a religion. Bloody perv. Anyways, thanks for whatever flashy spell you used. I'm as good as new. I won't have to spend the entire ride moaning in pain. Appreciate it."
"You're welcome. Are you still unattached? I'm looking for a busty priestess of Aphrodite."
She doesn't laugh at the offer, thankfully. She actually thinks about it for a moment and shakes her head. "While I am unattached, don't even dream of us going out. While you are pleasant to look at, your personality is frankly detestable, Alaric. Being your friend is a tall task already. I don't want more work. Such a waste, really. Maybe if you ever grow up, I'll rethink it. But presently, no."
With the unwanted criticism given, she leaves. She could've simply said no.
Lovely. Now I wish I didn't heal her.
Buying the stuff my sisters asked for, I return to my compartment, a little annoyed.
Daphne is nowhere to be seen, and Astoria has stolen my window seat. But she does scoot away at the sight of me, allowing me my prized seat back. "Where's Daph?"
"We apparently have a new DADA professor. Slughorn something. He has invited some students for a talk, it seems. So Daphne went there after some third-year Ravenclaw came to take her." Astoria snatches the snacks before I can react, already taking a bite of the chocolate cauldron.
"Boring." I sigh, wondering what it's about. Hopefully, this Slughorn is better than Umbridge. That's quite a low bar already.
"Exactly." She nods, vanishing the wrapper. "Say, I have a request."
"Anything for you, Tori," I say absently, viewing the scenery through the window.
"Let's snog." She tugs on my shoulder and slides into my lap.
I chuckle, my palms on her sides. "Funny. But there's no Daphne here."
"This is not a joke." Astoria says in an uncharacteristically serious tone, cupping my face. "I really want to know what snogging someone feels like. If you won't, I'll find some other boy."
Now that's some threat.
I shift a little so her weight is spread evenly on my thighs.
I can feel her warmth mingling with mine. I can picture the exact shape of her arse with the way her butt is squashed on my lap. And as she leans forward, I can smell the perfume clinging to her spotless skin. The heat of her breath makes me shiver, and the gentle press of her silken lips vanishes all traces of hesitance.
I don't remind her that we are brother and sister. Instead, I grab the back of her neck and press my mouth harder against hers. This is my first kiss, but I've spent so much time imagining it that I'm not really surprised by how it feels. Lips on lips, mouths parted open, tongue against tongue in a frenzied dance. It's all wet and hot.
It's predictably pleasant.
She tastes like chocolate, encouraging me to kiss her more passionately.
As my hands twitch and slide down her back, the compartment door slaps open, jolting us.
Astoria and I instinctively flinch and break the kiss, nearly cracking our necks with the speed we snap around to look at the intruder.
"So it's true." Draco eyes us with pity, his two goons standing guard behind him. "House Greengrass has fallen to a new low."
Now, how to handle this? Up until now, I've tried to remain clear of Malfoy and never offended him. He has reigned like a spoiled prince in Slytherin house, and I never found it wise to poke him. But I'm not so powerless anymore. Am I?
"Not as low as your mother when she services the Dark Lord with that pouty mouth of hers."
…
…
Draco's condescending pity turns into burning rage, and he reaches for his wand.
Fuck me and my filthy mouth.