FicWad

Author's Notes: Phew! I didn't know how many talking chapters were missing from this site! Now, Ficwas us caught up to Fanfiction, at least in terms of this particular fic.

Also, WARNING: Thus Chapter ends with a long scene of graphic sex. There is and alternate version fo this Fic with the sex censorhed on Fanficiton.net. If this offends you, please go there, as there a re a a few :side conversations" from that scene which I think are important or are at least interesting.

Anyway! Roll Camera!

Happy Holidays

"Harry!" Hermione cried, through her arms around her friend and hugging him close.

Harry sucked in his breath, and let out a croak. "Hermione . . . can't breathe . . ."

The young witch let go of him and stepped back, her face bright red. She was opened her mouth to say something—likely an apology. Instead, her eyes lit up, and she let out a "Daphne!" and instantly reached out to embrace Harry's fiancé, a little more careful this time.

"Hello, Hermione," Daphne said, after taking a moment to recover from having been beaten in the contest of introductions.

"Hermione," a strong male voice asked, "aren't you going to introduce us?"

Hermione's scarlet hue returned. "Sorry!" she cried, spinning around and letting one of her arms unwind itself around Daphne, while the other slipped down to take the other girl's hand in her own. The now free hand grasped Harry's. "Harry, Daphne, I'd like you to meet my parents. Mum and Dad, these are my friends, Harry and Daphne."

"Hello, sir," Harry said, squeezing Hermione's hand a little as he looked up at the parents of his friend (and, if Daphne had her way, one day his hetaera). Mr. Granger had the same color eyes as his child and Harry could see the same intelligence in them . . . and a hint of the same mentality. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and well-developed muscles, suggesting that, unlike Hermione, he as much of an athlete as he was an intellectual. The man had short, dark hair, and clean-shaven face with a strong jaw line. Combined with the eyes that were now studying Harry, it was an intimidating face.

"Hello," Mr. Granger—Dr. Granger, Harry recalled—said after a moment, extending his hand. Harry shook and tried not to let the man know he was squeezing a little too hard.

"Play nice, Dan," his wife said, rolling her eyes." Whereas Hermione got her eyes from her father, it was obvious she got the rest of her looks from her mother. The woman had the same bushy brown hair, the same soft face, and identical, full lips. Turning to Daphne, she extended her own hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Hermione's told us so much about you."

Not everything, I hope, Daphne thought. Before leaving school, the young witch had had a discussion with her friend. Hermione had agreed that telling her parents that Harry and Hermione were engaged or about the Troll or the Dark Forest would all be Very Bad Ideas. Out loud, she said, "Only good things, I hope."

Mrs. Granger—No, wait, she's a doctor, too, Harry recalled—smirked a little. "She did mention that you could be extremely charming. Perhaps, 'warned' would have been more appropriate."

"Harry! Daphne! Who is it?" a young girl called from down the hall.

Harry sighed. "That's my sister, Daisy. She . . . has a very strong voice."

"She's also very impatient to meet Hermione," Daphne said, grimacing. Actually, she was downplaying it. "I think we should head to the living-room."

"Sounds good," Mr. Granger replied. He grabbed his and his wife's bags and was surprised to see Harry and Daphne were arguing with Hermione over who should carry hers, surprised because Hermione was trying to convince them they didn't need to.

"Mum says you're my guest and my friend, so I should take your bags," Harry insisted.

"And you're my friend, too," Daphne added.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but her mother cut her off. "Let them do it, Hermione. When they come to visit us, you can take their things."

Hermione frowned a little, but relented, allowing Harry to take her big (for an eleven-year-old) suitcase in both hands, while Daphne grabbed the smaller bag beside it in one hand, and wrapped her other arm around Hermione's. The two children then led the family into the house.

Mr. Granger was certain of two things when he entered the Potter family living-room: the family was loaded, and they really liked Christmas. From the ceiling hung mistletoe and strings of popcorn, and poinsettias clung to the walls. By an enormous fireplace, stood an equally enormous tree, decorated in gold and silver, and ornaments in every color of the rainbow and with an equally colorful pile of presents under it. The walls were dark, polished wood, and there were carved vines with leaves and berries at the edges. It looked like the lobby of a hotel, rather than a home.

Sitting in front of the tree were a pair of girls, one blond and one dark-haired, who seemed to be in the process of trying to determine how to break into their presents early. When the group entered the room, they turned around. They were obviously the siblings of Harry and Daphne, which meant the dark-haired one was the girl, Daisy, who had shouted down the hall.

The girl in question now stood up and ran over to them. Stopping in front of Hermione, she asked, "Are you Hermione?" When the girl nodded yes, the younger one looked her up and down before asking, "So, are you going to marry my brother, too?"

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Granger said, covering her mouth to hide her smile. Mr. Granger, by contrast, actually dropped the bags he held and, for one brief moment, contemplated murder.

Harry, red as Rudoph's nose (or his friend's faces for that matter) stammered. "This is my sister . . . Daisy . . . she's a bit of a romantic . . . and she has a big imagination."

"Indeed," Daphne said, shooting a venomous look at her beloved's kid sister, a look which said, Didn't we all agree we weren't going to talk about marriage or concubines tonight?
"Sorry," Daisy said, not sounding particularly apologetic. "But you're Hermione right?" she asked the bushy-haired girl, who nodded. Looking her up and down, Daisy continued, "Good, maybe now Harry can talk about something other than you and Daphne when I ask him about school." Totally ignoring her brother's obvious embarrassment, she went on. "What's it like? Are there dragons? Mum said, you can learn to make things fly First Year. Can you make things fly? Will you show me?"

The blond girl, meanwhile, came up beside her but said nothing. Daisy, however noticed her. "This is Astoria. She's my best friend!" the hyperactive Potter said, throwing her arms around the other girl.

"She's also my sister," Daphne added.

"Hello, Hermione," the girl in question said, blushing. "Daphne's told me a lot about you. I'm pleased to meet you."

All three of the Grangers' hearts nearly broke. She was so sweet. "I'm pleased to meet you, too, Astoria," Hermione said, extending her hand and awkwardly shaking with the blond girl (Daisy had yet to let go of her poor friend).

"Good evening, Miss Granger," a smooth voice said from beside them. Mr. and Mrs. Granger jumped a little and turned. Walking towards them was . . . a wizard. Up until then, Mr. Granger had been a little . . . disappointed for want of a better term. Harry and Daphne didn't look any different than any other eleven-year-olds (perhaps a little older, but Hermione was . . . developing rather early, too, and they were assured this was normal for magical children). The house was big but didn't look particularly unusual.

The man approaching them, however, was most certainly a wizard, dressed in all black with a flowing cloak. The man's skin was extremely pale and his hair and eyes were jet black.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione cried. "What are you doing here?"

"Disappointed, Miss Granger?" the man asked. When the poor girl started sputtering in panic, she smiled and said, "Lady Potter and I have been friends almost since Harry was born," He couldn't say they had been friends since childhood, not since Fifth Year. "I am always present for the Holidays." Turning to the two new adults, he asked, "Miss Granger's parents, I presume?"

"Dan and Emma," Mr. Granger said, offering his hand.

"Professor Severus Snape, at your service," the teacher replied in his rich, smooth voice. "I am one of your daughter's teachers at Hogwarts."

"Yes, Hermione's described you," Mrs. Granger said. "You teach Potions, which is the magical equivalent of chemistry."

Professor Snape raised his eyebrow. "A very accurate description, yes. I'm happy to see I made an impression on her, hopefully a positive one."

"She spoke very highly of you in her letters," Mr. Granger remarked. Which was really something, since the only other professors mentioned were McGonagall and Dumbledore, and then only sparingly. Mostly, the girl talked about Harry and Daphne.

"I am pleased to hear that," Snape said, nodding slightly. "Almost all the guests are here, so, if you would like to join us in the Dining room . . ."

"What about our things?" Miss Granger asked.

"You can leave them here," Professor Snape remarked. "I promise we won't steal them."

Satisfied, the group left their bags in one corner and followed the professor down the hall and into the Dining room.

Inside was a couple who were obviously Daphne and Astoria's parents. The man had well groomed blond hair and wore classical-looking robes. His face bore a small smile and his eyes were relaxed. Beside him stood a tall, elegant woman with golden hair and the same violet eyes as Daphne. She was smiling, but her eyes were twinkling like the glass she held in her hand. She turned, and her smiled widened.

Still, it was her husband who spoke first, setting his own glass down, he set his own glass down and moved to the newcomers. "Good evening," he said. "I am Cyrus Greengrass, Daphne and Astoria's father, and this," he said, taking the woman's hand, "is my wife, Aphrodite."

"A pleasure to meet you," the woman said. "Are you the young lady my daughter is so taken with?" she asked Hermione, who recognized the look of mischief in her eyes.

"It seems Hermione made an impression on everyone," Mr. Granger noted. His wife reached over and squeezed his wrist just a little, causing him to sigh. He knew he was being unreasonable, but the way everyone was so impressed by his daughter sent his protective instincts into overdrive.

Hermione's mother then smiled widely at everyone. "Hello, everyone, we're Hermione's parents, Dan and Emma."

"What a pleasure to meet you!" a third voice called from beside them. Everyone turned as Lily Potter came in, carrying a large, steaming roast. The Grangers took a step back and gasped when they saw she wasn't actually carrying the plate. She was holding a wand under it and levitating the large, metal tray and the roast with it.

"Holy Cricket!" Mrs. Granger cried.

"First time seeing magic?" Mrs. Greengrass asked, smiling a little.

"First time since Hermione . . ." The woman trailed off, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that her mother hadn't mentioned what the three of them referred to only as "The Noodle Incident."

"Liam and Conner should be here any minute," Lily said, as she set the roast down in the middle of the table. "So, you kids better wash up." She was looking specifically at Daisy as she said this.

"All right/Yes, Ma'am," the five children chorused, and immediately headed off to the sink.

Walking around the table, Lily introduced herself, "Hello, I'm Lily Potter, Harry and Daisy's mother."

"Pleasure to meet you," Emma replied, shaking her hand.

"Likewise," Dan added.

"Hermione mentioned that you're . . ." Emma waved her hand, trying to remember the phrase.

"Like her?" Lily offered. "Yes, I am the first generation of my family to be born with magic. Severus here," she gestured to her friend, "was actually the one who explained it to me—we grew up together, you see."

Ding-dong!

"That must be them!" Lily exclaimed. "Pardon me," she said, before walking off towards the front door. The Grangers watched her go, then noticed the looks of their fellow guests. The Greengrasses were smirking to themselves, as though they knew something no one else did. Snape, meanwhile, was looking after Lily . . . the same way a man looks out to the sea when it has swallowed up the ship his love was on.

The Grangers looked at one another. There was definitely some drama at play here.

Lily returned with the last of the guests. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in black pants and wearing a black coat. The only color was his shirt, a garnet colored garment that reminded Mr. Granger more of blood than Christmas. He had a large forehead and dark eyes which were set off by his sallow complexion. The man's hair was the strangest, thing about him, however, dark brown and gelled into upward spikes, in the front. "Good evening, all," the man said in an American accent.

"This is Liam Riley and his son, Connor," Lily said. "Liam, Connor, these are the Grangers. Their daughter, Hermione, is a friend of Harry and Daphne."

"Nice to meet you. Say hello, Connor," Liam said, looking down to his side. Between him and Lily stood a dark-haired boy approximately Daisy and Astoria's age. The boy held both adults' hands, which is probably the only reason he hadn't disappeared behind his father's leg.

"Hi," he said, looking as though it pained him to say it.

"He . . . doesn't like strangers," Liam explained.

Just then, the children returned. "Connor!" Daisy cried, running towards him. Connor let go of Liam and Lily's hands and embraced her. "Happy Christmas, Connor!" Daisy exclaimed again.

"Merry Christmas, Daisy," he whispered back, smiling more easily now. The other kids walked up and Daisy happily introduced Connor to Hermione. Lily and Liam looked on, smiling.

The now complete party sat down together for dinner. Lily began carving the roast, passing one undercooked-looking piece to Liam.

"Thank you, Lily," he said, eagerly cutting into the bright red meat while ignoring the vegetables and rolls the others were loading their plates with.

"That can't be healthy," Mr. Granger remarked.

Liam looked up at him and remarked. "I get along fine like this."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Granger interjected. "You look half dead! You should think about the example you're setting for your son."

"Liam sets a perfect example for Connor!" Lily interrupted. The other adults turned to her. Hermione, meanwhile, looked down at the table to cover her red face. Can't you let it be? she thought. This was not the right time or place to critique someone else's eating habits. Her parents seemed to have forgotten she was there . . . along with her friends.

A pair of friends who reached under the table and took her hands in their own, squeezing gently.

While this was going on, Lily was continuing to stand up for her friend. "Liam is a brave and noble man. He has helped countless people and would do anything for his friends."

"Lily," Liam interrupted, "you don't—"

"Yes, I do!" she snapped at him. "You're . . . you're a hero, Liam. You've done good, a lot of good, and you're a wonderful father." Her voiced softened, as she stared into his eyes. "You've suffered and sacrificed so much . . . let someone else stand up for you for a change . . ."

After a moment of silence that rendered the Grangers present very uncomfortable. Severus cleared his throat. "Liam's diet is not as detrimental to his health as it would be to any of us, due to his . . . condition."

"'Condition?'" Mr. Grasnger asked. "What kind of condition?" Although they were only dentists, the Grangers were still medical professionals and had a certain amount of general knowledge. Neither had ever heard of a condition that made a diet consisting solely of bloody meat desirable.

"I'm a vampire," the man in question said.

" A vam . . ." Mrs. Granger started.

"You're serious?" Mr. Granger asked, his eyes flitting to examine the others present. Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were examining the situation curiously; Professor Snape was unreadable, and Lily was . . . apologetic?

"It's true. Liam is a vampire. We also have a good friend who is a werewolf, but he won't stop by until tomorrow, I'm afraid."

The Grangers looked at each other, trying to process this. Discovering Hermione was a witch—that magic was real—that had been hard enough to believe, but to learn that they were eating Christmas Dinner with a vampire was . . .

"You don't have any fangs," Hermione said. Everyone turned to her. The young witch blushed a little, but continued. "I'm sorry, but I've heard vampires have fangs, and you don't . . ."

"I do," Liam said. "I just . . . hide them, sort of, most of the time. I wouldn't be able to interact with people or hide in the normal world if I couldn't . . ."

"Oh," the witch replied. "May I see them, please?"

"Hermione . . ." Mrs. Granger started, although she had no idea what she was scolding her daughter about.

"It's all right," Liam interrupted again. Everyone turned to him. The dark-haired man sighed and then . . . changed. Liam opened his mouth and the Grangers gasped as his canines lengthened into wicked curves. Not only that, all the teeth between them became ugly razors. The man's eyes turned yellow beneath a brow ridge that extended itself like some kind of primordial beastman's, fixed into a fierce scowl. "Rrrgh." He let out a small growl, like a lion . . .

"Oh, my . . ." Mrs. Granger let out covering her mouth with her hand.

"You really are . . ." he husband whispered.

"Wow," Hermione whispered.

"It's hard to pull off when you're younger," Liam remarked, shifting back to his human features. "I've heard that it actually becomes more challenging to keep your human face when you get older."

"How old are you?" Hermione asked, before she could stop herself.

Liam shrugged, "A little less than 247, young for a vampire."

"You're almost two-and-a-half centuries old, and that's young?" Mr. Granger asked.

". . . I suppose you really are immortal?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"More or less."

"Is Connor a vampire, too?" Hermione asked, looking the brown-haired boy over. He didn't look much like a vampire; in fact, unlike his father, Connor had a slight tan.

"No," Connor said, shaking his head. "I'm half."

"You mean your mother is human?" Daphne's father asked, butting in. The others turned to him, and he winced (Daphne knew from past experience this meant that her mother had kicked his under the table). "Sorry, but Daphne and Astoria never mentioned this before . . . We always assumed you were adopted . . . I've only heard stories of dhampirs, human/vampire children . . . I wasn't sure it could really happen."

"Yeah," Connor said. "Mom was human."

The adults and Hermione stared at him, causing the boy to stare sullenly at his plate. Liam, eventually came to his son's aid. "There were . . . complications during Connor's birth."

"That's one way of putting it," Lily muttered, too low for most of them to hear. "Complications" was a nice name for a team of psychotic vampire hunters and a cult of fanatical vampires . . .

". . . So . . ." Mrs. Greanger started, trying to brighten up the conversation (or at least make it less dark). "What is it you do, Mr. Riley?"

"I'm a private investigator," Liam replied, blinking.

"Oh, what's that like?" she asked.

". . . Interesting," the vampire replied.

Lily and Connor snorted simultaneously.

Later

"C'mon, you two!" Daisy shouted at her brother and new friend. "Kiss already!"

"Daisy, they don't have to kiss each other if they don't want to," Lily tried to convince her daughter (you'd think by now she'd know better).

"They're standing under the mistletoe, aren't they?" she asked.

"Daisy," Hermione tried, blushing.

"Aren't you?" the girl asked again.

"yes," she said, quietly. She and Harry were in fact standing under a sprig of mistletoe.

"Then kiss already," the girl repeated.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest further, but was cut off by a warm, soft sensation on her cheek. She spun around and stared at Harry, whose face was as red as his mother's hair, but he was also smiling, ever so slightly.

"Good job, Harry," Liam said from the sidelines. The vampire was grinning. Hermione's mother looked amused while her father seemed like he was trying to look amused. Daphne's parents, by contrast, were sharing the same look of mischief that their daughter so often wore.

"Your turn, Hermione," Daphne said.

"What?" the frazzled young witch asked.

"Kiss his cheek. Fair's fair," Daphne said, in a tone that would allow no argument.

Hermione looked at Harry, blushing even more that before. Harry shuffled uncomfortably. "You don't have to Hermione, I'll just step over here . . ."

Harry was about to step away when Hermione took his hand and whispered, "It's all right, Harry." Then, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"All right, I think that's enough," Lily said, shifting a little against the wall." Ah,young love, she thought to herself. Harry had written to her shortly after the "incident" at Halloween, panicking at Daphne's plan to make the other girl his hetaera. Lady Potter hand intended to sit down and speak with her son on the matter, but Daisy had monopolized him until Astoria came over, and by then Lily was busy cooking dinner. Now, it looked like Christmas would be a little more serious than usual for Harry.

On the other hand, this had given her a chance to observe Harry and Hermione's interactions on their own, and it looked like . . .

"Mum, look!" Daisy cried, pointing up.

Lily's eyes went wide. Oh, dear, she thought looking up. She was standing under another sprig of mistletoe and beside her was . . .

"Oh," Liam said, looking up as well. ". . . I can move,"

"You're supposed to kiss each other!" Daisy protested.

Lily sighed. Arguing with a child about Christmas traditions reminded her of the story of Sisyphus. After death, he was condemned to push a rock up a hill, but every day, the rock rolled back down and he would have to go after it. "All right," she said. She leaned forward and kissed the vampire's cold cheek. She was about to pull away when Liam angled his face and kissed her very close to her mouth.

Drawing back, she stared at him wide-eyed. His eyes were locked onto hers, and he swallowed a little. Lily's heart rate instantly tripled; it was the same look James had had on his face after he'd kissed her for the first time . . .

Later

The rest of the evening had gone off well enough, Mrs. Granger reflected as she lay down in bed with her husband. There'd been singing, games, and a few more incidents under the mistletoe. Actually, there had been a lot more events involving mistletoe: herself and her husband, the Greengrasses, Connor and Daisy (which seemed to actually bring a smile to the boy's face), Daphne and Harry, Daphne and Hermione (who'd blushed even worse than she had with Harry, poor girl), Daisy and Astoria (which pleased Daisy perhaps a little too much), another incident with Harry and Hermione (which did not amuse her husband), and one moment where Liam and Professor Snape found themselves under the "plant of doom" (the two had stared at each other for a moment before stiffly pecking one another's cheek and spending the rest of the night avoiding each other).

As she smiled at that particular memory, Dan broke the silence. "I'm not sure I like him."

"What?" Emma asked, then realized who he was talking about. "Harry?" When Dan grunted in reply, she sighed. "Dan, he's just a friend—"

"Could've fooled me."

"They're still only children."

"I kissed you for the first time when we were twelve," he reminded her.

"Well . . . we weren't very serious then . . ." she trailed off.

"And we had sex when we were fourteen—"

"All right, we were very impatient," the woman conceded. "That doesn't mean Hermione will be. Besides, why does it matter? Harry seems like a nice boy, and Hermione's only ever praised him in her letters."

"He's too close to that Daphne girl," her husband muttered (or perhaps accused). "He's acting like some kind of player—"

"Dan, not every child is quite as impatient or reckless as we were," Emma tried again. "Besides, let's face it; you'd find a million different reasons to dislike Harry regardless of having met the boy. No father likes to deal with the fact that his daughter is growing up and that some boy might be replacing him as her favorite male. I know my father didn't." She smiled at the memory.

Dan shivered a little, probably remembering the man as well. "You're wearing your cross, right?"

"Yes, dear," she sighed. "Although I don't think it's necessary. Mr. Riley was a perfect gentleman—"

"Hrruh," Dan grunted again. "Doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked.

Emma sighed, but let the matter go. "No, I suppose it doesn't." At least she had convinced him to leave the garlic cloves he'd swiped from the kitchen in front of the door instead of stuffing them in his shirt pocket as he'd wanted to.

Malfoy Manor

“Oh, YES! Give it to me, Slut! Give it—OH, YEEEESSSSS!!!!!” Narcissa Malfoy cried as she ground her pussy against a curly redhead’s. The platinum blond was on her back in a special dungeon in Malfoy Manor. She had scissored her legs with the redhead’s own, and the pair were vigorously pushing against each other. Narcissa’s hands were on her own breasts, kneading them and twisting the nipples. She continued crying out as she arched her back and released her fluids into the womanhood of her partner.

The woman in question held one of Narcissa’s legs , pulling the other woman closer to her, while the other one was at her own impressive chest. She wasn’t crying nearly as loudly, instead whimpering, “Yes, Mistress . . . yes, yes . . . aaaaah!” as she reached her own climax.

Both women lay panting for a moment, before Narcissa finally crawled up to her partner. Unlike her, this woman had no wedding ring; her only article was a ribbon of black silk around her neck with the Malfoy family crest in silver.

Bending down, Narcissa lightly kissed her forehead. ”Very good, Rebecca,” she said. “That was definitely one of the best you ever gave me.

“Thank you, Mistress,” the girl (she was only nineteen, and a Muggle) answered. “Just . . . doing . . . my . . . best . . . to . . .” she stopped. Narcissa sighed and lay down, wrapping an arm around the girl, and another around the one on her other side.

Draco lay tucked in bed asleep in the upper rooms. It had been wonderful to see him, of course. Narcissa had practically smothered him when he’d walked in through the front door. They had eaten together and talked about what his first semester at Hogwarts had been like. Most of this was things that he had already covered in his letters, but it was so much better hearing them from Draco himself. He was, naturally, performing marvelously, he assured her, both in class and out. On one hand, this pleased her; her son was coming into his own, and what mother wouldn’t be pleased at that? Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt; her son didn’t need her as much as he used to.

Neither, it seemed did his father.

Narcissa sighed again, looking around the room. The bed was large enough for seven or eight people, though it had yet to reach beyond half a dozen occupants. Rebecca the redhead lay on the right edge with Narcissa next to her. The girl on her other side, Sally, was a blond, though her hair was brighter than the Malfoy family’s snow-white crowns. She wasn’t quite so well-endowed as Rebecca (high C’s), but she still had a very nice chest (low-to-mid C’s, just like Narcissa herself). Lying beside her were two more women, Claire and Emily. Claire was also blond, but a different shade than Sally, and had the largest bosom (natural D’s) and wide hips. Emily was of Indian descent and much smaller (only B’s) but had the firmest, sweetest butt. Like Rebecca, all three wore black silk with the Malfoy crest around their necks.

Emily and Claire lay asleep in each other’s arms, having already served her pleasure. For that was their purpose: to keep her happy when her husband was away. Luscious worked long hours both at the Ministry and outside it (in politics, what happens outside the office is often more important that what happens in it), but his wife had such a high libido. So, he’d acquired these four pretty little Muggle girls to keep her company. They were concubines, these four, carefully groomed over a number of years to be the perfect pets. Narcissa was bisexual, and her husband didn’t mind allowing her to enjoy herself with females, especially females they owned. He’d even joined her, occasionally.

Still, she missed him. It was Christmas Eve, and although they weren’t Christians (like a number of Purebloods, the Malfoy’s worshiped the spirits of their noble, magical ancestors), he should have gotten home early. Instead, he was out currying favor with a bunch of mindless political chumps who couldn’t recognize good policy unless it came with enough drinks to give a dragon a hangover.

She turned to her right, feeling a hand on her arm. It was Sally, rubbing up and down. There was a small smile on her face, as though she was saying It will be all right.

Narcissa frowned a little, then reached over Rebecca to her wand and summoned a box to her hands, opening it, she removed a favorite toy. “I do not need your pity,” she said, strapping on the enchanted dick. Seeing it, Sally moaned a little and spread her legs. Narcissa knelt between them probing the girl’s pussy with a finger. Naturally, she was very wet. “You’re ready for this, aren’t you, Cunt?” she asked, addressing the girl by her nickname. They all had their own nicknames, all insults (Rebecca was Slut, Claire was Whore, and Emily was Bitch), but Narcissa never called any of them by another’s name, and Sally moaned a little at her mistress’ question.

Grinning, Narcissa thrust into her pet, drawing a moan from the girl. Narcissa nearly moaned herself, the strap-on was enchanted to feed the sensations into her own womanhood, but she suppressed it. Now was the time for punishment, not pleasure. Drawing back, she began to thrust in and out of her pet’s tight channel. “Yesssssss,” she hissed. “You like this, don’t you Cunt?” Sally moaned in response, unlike Rebecca, sex tended to steal her ability to speak. She could only groan and whimper to beg her mistress on.

It didn’t last long, the poor girl was too aroused; she came around Narcissa’s dick with one last “AAAaaaaahhhhhhhh!” Narcissa reveled in the sensations, but didn’t let herself go, not yet. Withdrawing from her Cunt’s cunt, she straddled the girl’s head. Without waiting to be told, Sally opened her mouth and allowed Narcissa to thrust her enchanted cock in.

“Mmh. Good girl,” Narcissa moaned, enjoying the feel of her pet’s tongue as she moved the toy in and out of her mouth. Now, she permitted herself to fully enjoy the feelings her concubine gave her. Unlike with Rebecca, this climax was not loud or urgent. She just thrust herself a little harder between Sally’s sweet lips and let go. Another wonderful aspect of the strap-on was that it sent her cum through its own shaft, just like a real one.

Narcissa’s orgasm, therefore ended with Sally sucking up her fluids, but she made sure to pull out just in time to allow a little to splatter onto the girl’s face. “Good girl,” she repeated at her pet, who smiled up at her, absent-mindedly licking her lips. Does she realize how seductive she is? The witch wondered, before sliding back down the girl’s stomach. Looking into her victim’s wide eyes, she grinned. ”You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

Then, she began fucking her Cunt all over again.

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Author's Notes: Angel! Liam is based on Angel! I even considered making his surname "St. Angel," but gave that up becuase it sounded a little dumb (and REALLY condicending). Let me just say this right now: NO! The Buffyverse does not exist in this story! Liam is not under a curse that will turn him evil if he knows true happiness. (I honestly never liked the "soulless vampire" thing outside of how it tortured Angel and made him a great character). I don't know how much of either show I'm going to include in this, but Angel Investigations (or Riley Investigations or whatever) will make an appearanc, later on. . . (Wolfram Hart is harder to pull off, but not impossible). Just don't ask for some specific breed of demon cause THE LOVECRAFT REJECTS AREN'T HERE! (This may, unfortunately, forbid me from using Lorne, but I may be able to work around it).

Also, sorry if my description of Liam's vampire face" was too vague. You should be able to find an image in a few seconds on Google or Bing or wherever. Just type: Angel "vampire face" or Angel vampire or something.

Sorry that this was mostly fluff. The next chapter should have more "action," for want of a better term.

Did anyone like the bit about "Pureblood Ancestor Worship?" It makes sense to me, given how obsessed with bloodlines they are that some Purebloods would go in for it. Free trivia: Hemmler, Hitler's righthand-man actually tried to promote a cult centered around the ancient Germanic witches and wisewomen, at least, that's what part of a documentary on the History Channel said. (The Furher wasn't pleased by this, but couldn't do anything to stop it, really). And, sense the Death Eaters basically are magical Nazis . . .

Sadly, though, most Nazis were Christians. I have the feeling that there will be plenty of Death Eaters who are, too.
Other Purebloods, like the G
reengrasses, well . . . you'll notice I didn't mention their beliefs in this chapter; they just came to the party. What are they . . .? (I already know the answer-all of you go "Duh"-I just want to get you thinking.