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“Speaking”

'Thinking'

Chapter 10 Narcissa

Harry just couldn't help but play with his new purchase. With the World Cup only two days away now, he hadn't been sure if Hedwig would make it back with his order. Fortunately that morning she had pecked at the bedroom window, asking to be let in with a wrapped brown parcel attached to her leg. It had taken a bit of fumbling to get the parcel off, largely because Hedwig was hungry, thirsty and grouchy but a few owl treats and a bowl of water had that sorted quickly.

He had ripped off the paper after a discrete prod with his wand to make sure there had been no tampering, to reveal a shrunken multiple compartment trunk. Harry couldn't deny that a large part of the reasoning for its purchase had been the simple fact the whole space-expansion thing for its insides had made him think of a TARDIS.

One of his favorite shows to watch over the Summer had been Doctor Who.

A quick trip inside had revealed it was set to his specifications, with a small bedroom and a slightly larger potions lab. There was also a small area set aside for keeping a captured creature, up to the size of a young Nundu with a bit of space to roam.

Regardless of age, Nundu's were at the very least the size of a small van.

The main reason for his purchase of the Huntsman's Trunk was the simple fact that he needed somewhere that could act as something of a safehouse for himself. Given the incidents over the past couple of years, a place that he could retreat to would definitely be of great value to him.

He'd bought the Huntsman's model due to the various security features that essentially made the trunk a mobile secret base. It was untraceable, unplottable and inaccessible to everyone but him and those he chose to allow entry. He didn't have much use for the cage room, beyond a potential food larder to extend the one that existed in what looked like a closet in the bedroom. He was sure he'd find some use for it.

But now that he actually had the trunk, shrunk once again and in his trouser pocket, he couldn't stop playing with it. Squeezing it like a stress ball, rolling it around in his hand, beating out a tune against it! Harry was glad that the space within the trunk wasn't affected by the motions of the outside container, otherwise when he next went in he'd probably find his bed had been smashed to pieces against the ceiling!

That would have crushed him. The bed really was ridiculously comfortable.

Shaking his head, Harry forced himself to release the trunk as he walked into the room he shared with Ron.

“Alright Harry?” Ron questioned from his place on his bed, already in his pajamas, hands folded beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting to fall asleep.

Stretching with a groan, a few pops escaping his form, Harry flung back the covers on his own bed and slipped beneath them. “Yeah, I'm fine, just not looking forward to the early start tomorrow you know?”

Ron's answering groan makes it clear that he shared Harry's opinion of the coming wake up call. “Merlin, nobody is meant to wake up before six in the morning. Just isn't right is it?”

“No Ron, its a complete travesty and an affront to my nature as a teenaged bloke.” Harry retorted, deadpan. “If we're going to actually get up without feeling like trampled crap, we'd better try to get to sleep.”

“Way ahead of you.” Ron mumbled sleepily as he started to drift off.

Harry couldn't help but shoot his friend a look of both exasperated amusement and slight jealousy. He wished he could just drift off like that.

Turning onto his side after a few calculated punches into his pillow, Harry settled down with a slight grunt. After laying down on the bed in his trunk, the one he was currently in just didn't match up. But there was nothing for it but to grin and bare it. He just had to remember it was all for the Quidditch World Cup.

He paused and then groaned as he felt excitement crawl through his mind.

He was never getting to sleep at this rate.

Xx-Line-break-Ahoy-xX

Narcissa Malfoy was by all accounts, the epitome of pureblood wife.

She was elegant in voice and form, every movement graceful and every word carefully chosen. When surrounded by the riffraff of wizard society, she instinctively gained a sneer on her face due to both the views of her family and the views of her husband. She was tall and slender but had enough curves that she was a willowy beauty rather than spindly.

She lounged in her position sat upon the armchair in her family's tent, somehow making it seem more like a throne than a simple seat.

She was also by all accounts, a very bored woman.

When she had been in Hogwarts, charming Lucius Malfoy had been one of the greatest games she had ever participated in. She had gained access to great wealth, political prestige and she had also freed herself from the machinations of her family while keeping all of the benefits. It had been exciting and entertaining, it had been some of the greatest fun in her life. She had lied, manipulated, backstabbed and coerced her way into being the ultimate woman for the scion of the Malfoy family.

His Father adored her, his Mother saw her as the daughter she'd never had.

But now that the chase was long since done...she was bored. She gained what she wanted but having it was nowhere near as fulfilling as chasing it down. The height of excitement for her these days was meeting with the few friends she had from her school days who hadn't been killed or imprisoned in the course of the Dark Lords attempted cleansing of the British Isle.

It was an unfortunately low number.

She sighed and stood from her chair, taking a small wine glass with her which she then refilled from the bottle on the table. Rolling the dark red liquid around its glass prison, Narcissa grumbled and placed the refilled glass on the table, retreating back to her chair after a stopover at the bookcase to get a new book.

Nobody would ever dare postulate that she was becoming an alcoholic, but Narcissa could admit to herself she was coming close. There was a time she wouldn't even think of drinking until it was gone six in the afternoon, only breaking her rule for special occasions, like dances and the like. But as the years passed and her days dwindled from enjoyable to boring tedium, the wine bottle tilted a little easier.

At least her vice was something somewhat harmless unlike Mrs Zabini's. The wealth she gained from the death of each husband was actually something of an afterthought. Everyone in her little circle knew the real reason for their deaths. The woman couldn't keep her legs closed in the presence of a man remotely handsome and her flagrant disregard for her marital status had led to each husband finding out.

And then they had rather convenient accidents. Of course she was spoken of as that 'poor dear' in the light of day, which is what mattered, but in the safety of their homes she was derided as a whore.

Not to say that she was the only one who had extra-marital activities.

Narcissa could think of at least three others she knew were cheating and a further two she was unsure of. Lucius would never stray from her. Although that was less his choice and more because most knew what would happen to anyone sniffing around her man. It only took one person to get the warning out, and the one person who she had used was still selling herself in Knockturn Alley.

Leafing through the book she had chosen, Narcissa barely read two pages before she was too bored to continue. Unfortunately being a good wife meant she had to attend events that simply didn't hold her interest, including the Quidditch World Cup. She loved going to broom races, they were quick but nerve-wracking, but Quidditch was just too much back and forth for her. They were all brilliant flyers but the nature of the game just led to her becoming irritated and wanting to leave.

However when one's family is invited to sit amongst the elite in the top box by the Minister himself....trying to find a way out would just be rude, and incredibly foolish, something Lucius understood. The only reason that he hadn't been thrown into Azkaban like so many of his acquaintances was due to good relations with various people with great power and greater sway.

If it weren't for where their tent was pitched, Narcissa would go wandering in the campsite. But unfortunately, the fool who handled the pitch allocations had the Malfoy's pitched far too close to the Muggle owners of the campsite. The fact she had to interact with them once when they actually had to pay the magicless plebs was bad enough. But the last time she had left the tent, the girl had sought her out and pestered her incessantly to find out how her hair was the color it was.

If she had been born just a century ago, she would have been well within her rights to jinx the irritant and send her on her way. Unfortunately, muggleborns in the Ministry had managed to get several new laws protecting the muggles passed just before the turn of the century.

A smirk made its way briefly to her face as she thought on what her husband had planned with several of his friends in the 'old crowd'. He honestly thought she didn't know, but there was only one reason why he would be carrying 'that' mask with him. Chances were that the useless muggles who owned the site would become something worthwhile in the form of entertainment.

She just had to wait patiently and she'd at least get something from this trip, other than an hour or so sat in a box with people who probably didn't speak her language while watching idiots smack cast iron balls at each other.

Xx-Line-break-Ahoy-xX

Harry had to physically restrain himself from vibrating in his seat as he waited for the match to start. The only thing that was putting a damper on his mood was the fact that the Malfoy's were also in attendance but even that wasn't so bad.

He'd not seen Narcissa Malfoy before, and the majority of Voldemort's memories only really mentioned her in passing. She wasn't major enough that she really stood out in the memories, but by Merlin she really should. Despite the slight sneer making her look like she'd smelt something bad, she was utterly gorgeous, an aristocratic face framed by silvery-blonde hair and a body that should belong to a model, not a Mother.

Every few seconds, he couldn't help but sneak a glance at the woman, and let his imagination run wild. When he'd look at her lips, he'd imagine them wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy, when he stared at her chest he wondered how they'd feel beneath his palms, when he stared at her legs...it was only through self-control and several self-calming Occlumency tricks that stopped his cock from saluting the world.

It was during one of those snatched glances that he caught sight of her suppressing a smirk as her husband whispered in her ear. Being a naturally curious person (read: nosy) meant that these actions already had him intrigued, but the fact that it was the parents of Draco Malfoy doing it?

Harry needed to know.

And so it was with a few mumbled excuses that he stood up and began to leave the box, ostensibly to go to the bathroom. As he was moving toward the exit, he stared pointedly at Narcissa as he passed, only just managing not to grin at his success when her eyes turned and met his.

It was like briefly falling through a fog, every wisp containing a small snatch of conversation, or a brief glimpse, but nothing really relevant to what he was looking for. He could spend forever and a day sorting through, looking for what he wanted to know, and to everyone but him only a millisecond will have gone by.

Fortunately it didn't take him anywhere near that long to find what he wanted to know.

Images of a familiar white mask, worn in concert with a concealing black cloak with its hood up. Each of them a faceless monster ready to terrorize muggles and muggleborns with equal delight. The confirmation that there was indeed going to be an 'incident' later that night, provided the match ended at a reasonable time.

Breaking eye contact with the woman, Harry allowed a frown to cross his face as soon as he knew nobody could see it. He was about as far from a paragon of good as one could get without crossing the lines that Voldemort did. But the people he targeted...he had actual grievances with them due to their past action toward him. So far anyway. The Death Eaters and those who supported them simply hated people for the circumstances of their birth.

The family who owned the camp site had done nothing to deserve what would inevitably happen. He couldn't report what he'd found because they'd want to know just how he found out. He couldn't wait for the Death Eaters and take them on, he had no idea how many people would be turning up. Stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him, Harry allowed his frown to deepen. It was the sense of amusement that had colored the thoughts that was really making it stick in his craw.

Pretty on the outside, but an utter bitch inside. The knowledge that they didn't plan to kill the muggles was a cold comfort at best. He couldn't stop it, and they'd just get away with it and have a good laugh over it later. And after tonight he couldn't even have a bit of vigilante justice against them. The Malfoy manor had a particularly powerful set of wards, a reason for Voldemort's constant use of the place as a sort of HQ.

She liked tormenting people helpless to defend themselves (and she had during Voldemort's attempt at power), how would she like it if it happened to her? That was a question that Harry desperately wanted answered, but he didn't know how. The only things that would get through that ward, were those they allowed and....house elves.

Letting a vicious smirk curl his lips, Harry opened his mouth and called out “Dobby!” quietly. His hope was answered when with a small crack a familiar house elf popped into existence in front of him vibrating with excitement.

“Mr Harry Potter Sir called for me?!” he squealed excitedly. “Dobby hoped a time would come that he could help the great Harry Potter, and its finally happening!”

The smirk on Harry's lips softened into a smile. Dobby was always so excited, but the fact that he was so ready to help him no matter the fact he wasn't his Master....Dobby was far too loyal to him. “Hey Dobby.” he spoke, waiting a few moments for Dobby to calm down before continuing. “It's nice to see you again, but I have a simple question for you. Just how much do you hate the Malfoy's?”

The question was important. If the house elf had even a modicum of affection for Narcissa, chances were that he wouldn't help Harry.

“Oh Dobby hates them absolutely! They made Dobby iron his own ears, Dobby only got through it by preying a giant would come and eat them!” Came the positively bubbly reply.

Never mind then.

“So if I told you that if you help me, we could give Narcissa a taste of her own medicine, would you be willing to help me?” Harry asked, slightly disturbed by the idea of Dobby of all people having homicidal thoughts.

Dobby nodded rapidly, causing his bat-like ears to flap about his head. “Dobby would do anything that Harry Potter asked! Dobby will just enjoy it even more than he would normally!”

Smiling, Harry began to outline what he wanted Dobby to do.

Xx-Line-break-Ahoy-xX

Narcissa woke up with a groan, stilling herself to prevent any excess movement that would aggravate the pounding in her skull. She was sure she hadn't drunk that much while waiting for Lucius to return home from his activities. She'd headed home the moment the match was over, so as to provide an alibi should anyone think of accusing her husband of taking part.

Opening her eyes, the beginnings of worry began to flow in her veins as she was met with an unfamiliar gray ceiling, only a single lamp in the corner of the ceiling providing any light. Moving her hands to push herself to her feet only exacerbated her worry as she saw the metal cuffs keeping her hands together. With a bit of effort she managed to force herself to her feet, and moved to the small cot in the corner of the empty room. As she moved, the knowledge that her robes had been changed came to her attention as a simple gray chemise fluttered around her body. A flush burst onto her cheeks from a mixture of embarrassment and rage as she realized that beneath the chemise she was completely nude.

Sitting down on the cot, she realized that the only options she had available to her were to sleep or wait, no alternatives presenting themselves as the fact she was in captivity without her wand sunk in. Perhaps it was a mixture of stress or fear, but as she leaned against the wall she quickly passed into sleep.

….Only to be awoken when the light suddenly became harsher causing her to raise her bound hands to shield her face. Blinking spots out of her eyes, when she was finally able to see again she retreated a bit further onto the bed. The man approaching her had a simple blank white mask, with only two upturned crescent slits for eye-holes, making it seem as though the mask were smiling despite the lack of a mouth. His clothing was a simple dark robe, without a hood, long enough that his feet were obscured and yet her never tripped on it. In his hands is a tray with food and some kind of drink in a carafe on it.

Steeling herself, Narcissa forced herself to talk. “Who are you? What do you want with me?!” she spat out rapidly, making herself angrier to suppress any fear the mans presence may invoke.

Putting down the tray on the small end-table that was stuck to the floor, the man turned his head towards her, making her quail slightly before he answered. “The second will be revealed in time. As for the first, why do you think I'm wearing a mask?”

The bastard had the gall to sound amused.

Sneering at him, Narcissa attempted to goad the man into showing his face. “Too cowardly to show me what you look like? Are you hideous, or are you just afraid of what my husband will do to you if I point you out?”

A snort escaped the man. “If I'm a coward for wearing a mask, your 'dear husband' must be one as well. Perhaps an even greater one.” He paused and tilted his head as he looked at her. “After all he's worn one far more often than I have. And all while tormenting helpless muggles too.”

Narcissa sniffed primly. “My husband was under the imperious curse when he was forced to undertake such actions. He could not control himself.” She recited the lie for the umpteenth time.

“Well, he must be exceptionally weak-willed given that it seemingly happened again tonight.” The man retorted before turning to leave the room. “Eat. Drink. We'll continue this tomorrow. Should you need the bathroom, simply ask the room for it and it will provide.”

Narcissa relaxed slightly when the man exited the room, casting a longing glance at the food on the tray. It was a simple affair, various kinds of meats and cheeses in small sandwiches, and a carafe filled with water. She hadn't eaten for a while now, and the last thing she'd drunk was that glass of wine earlier in the day. However, she had no way of knowing what had been done to the food, so she'd have to leave it. Laying down, Narcissa turned onto her side and tried to go back to sleep.

She woke later in the night and ate and drank without restraint. She had never had to go without food or drink before, so when it was so readily available she couldn't help herself.

Then the warmth started. It wasn't pain however from a poison or any other such thing, rather it was the familiar stirrings of lust, heat and moisture emanating from between her legs.

She sought to ignore it, but it was insistent and so with a whimper of shame she had slipped her hands between her legs. Unfortunately no matter how much she moved her fingers, the flames would be stoked higher and higher, but she never reached the end. She tried for what felt like an age until her fingers actually ached too much to continue.

The man came then, the next morning with a contract written out on parchment, and told her that he would cease what was affecting her so long as she signed. Narcissa managed to stutter a demand that she be allowed to read it. He refused and left her to her torment. It was slowly driving her insane, she felt, no being able to get any relief no matter how hard she tried. T he promise of profound pleasure idled under the frustration, but no matter what she did, she couldn't reach it.

Xx-Line-break-Ahoy-xX

Harry pulled off the mask, transfiguring it back into the simple ceramic plate it originally was. When he'd entered his trunk that morning it had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to simply flip Narcissa over and mount her like a dog. She was flushed a bright red, sweating and her hair was a glorious mess. She looked utterly shag-able. And given the sheer size of the stain on the sheets of her cot, she probably wouldn't protest all that much.

But he wanted her to sign the contract he'd presented her with that morning, so he'd own her exactly like he did Pansy. Any time one of the Malfoy males opened their gobs he'd be able to think of how he was plowing their significant other and feel serene.

It was a good idea bring Dobby in on things, Harry decided as he changed out of his clothes and back into the last outfit he'd been seen wearing around the Burrow. When he had decided to 'appropriate' Narcissa for a while, for some reason the notion that people would search for her hadn't even entered his mind.

Dobby had forged a letter in her handwriting declaring that she had been called to something of an urgent family meeting with a branch family of the Black's in Germany. Dobby was then on standby to intercept any messages Lucius would send to confirm it, ready to send a believable reply. Given that the house elf knew she had done so once before without much fuss from Lucius, he'd felt confident that leaving the letter would keep them free and clear, at least for a little while. Seeing as there had been no mentions of her abduction in the Daily Prophet, he was sure that Dobby was right.

In the end, Harry had his doubts that she'd be staying with him long enough for her absence to matter anyway. She gave into the urge to eat and drink fairly quickly after all.

He was proved right the next day.

Xx-Line-break-Ahoy-xX

“Look, I'll sign your damned contract, just end the effects of whatever potion or curse you've used on me!” Narcissa begged desperately. She hadn't slept properly since she'd eaten the food and drank the water, and every waking moment was spent yearning for release. At this point she was ready to do anything to end it.

With a flourish her captor unfurled the parchment and presented her with a quill before placing the contract on the end-table. Keeping true to her word, Narcissa scratched out her signature shakily. The man glanced at her writing before rolling the contract back up and storing it in his robe once more.

“There, I signed it, now will you please stop this...whatever it is?” Narcissa asked tiredly, wanting it over and done with so she could sleep. Her heart felt like it plummeted into her stomach when the man simply turned from her and walked from the room. “I did what you asked! Aren't you going to honor your side of the deal?!” she demanded.

The man turned back to her and tutted at her. “Ah, ah, ah Narcissa. We'll deal with your problem the moment the contract is locked in this time tomorrow, not a moment sooner. We don't want you squirming out of it now do we?”

Narcissa actually whined, just audible enough that it reached the mans ears before he shut the door to her cell. Despite what some people thought, even though pureblood politics was rather ruthless and cutthroat, her parents had not prepared her on how to deal with captivity. They most certainly hadn't taught her on how to deal with torture. And they definitely did not prepare her for this kind of torture.

Maybe if it had been pain she would have been able to avoid signing the contract, if only to spite her captor. She had hoped that he'd fix whatever he'd done to her after she'd signed and she'd be able to cancel the contract as soon as he did. The knowledge that such things could be canceled within the first twenty-four hours wasn't common after all. But he'd known.

Narcissa mulishly fell back onto the cot and turned onto her side with a scowl on her features. The scowl didn't last long as a needy throb from between her legs had her whimpering once more.

Xx-Line-break-Ahoy-xX

Harry walk was hurried and more than a little uncomfortable due to the semi he'd had for practically the entire day. There had been a few questions about why he'd wanted to go into the muggle village again today, but a few smiles and saying he just wanted to catch a film before they headed back to Hogwarts and he was home free. Of course he'd made sure the film showing in the local cinema was as suitably low-brow and action filled that Hermione would have no interest in tagging along, and Ron wouldn't understand half of the terminology used so he didn't bother.

Of course he wasn't actually going to the cinema but he didn't want to be accessing his trunk which currently held a kidnapped pureblood woman in the Burrow. The chances of anyone being curious enough to snoop was low but Harry would rather not risk his arse over it.

Feeling suitably far from the Burrow, Harry took his shrunken trunk from his pocket and unshrunk it on the ground just within the small treeline that separated the Burrow from the world. Plenty of muggles entered the treeline but they would feel as though the journey took forever before reaching the otherside.

That was because a few rather clever charms were making them walk along the treeline until they came out the opposite end, having just walked around the Burrow.

Opening the trunk and descending down a small ladder, Harry once again found himself in the small bedroom in his trunk, his wand in hand already transfiguring the ceramic plate into the mask he had been using. The contract had become effectively locked in place over an hour ago, and he was finally going to get what he wanted. He just needed to explain the contract to her and he'd be coming up roses.

When he walked into her room, his self-control snapped.

She was lying on her side, shaking and trembling every now and then. Judging by the motions of her shoulders, she had slipped her hands between her legs and was desperately rubbing away, trying to relieve herself. The scent of arousal was heavy in the air, and the chemise he'd give her to wear was bunched up about her waist, revealing a perfectly formed lily white ass. Narcissa Malfoy wasn't the pale that came from not getting enough sun. She was the delicate porcelain pale of good genes.

His wand moved almost without his knowledge. With a yelp, Narcissa's hands were forced up to the head of the cot, chains emerging from her cuffs to wrap about her arms and attach to the floor beneath it. Her body followed it, twisting so she was lying on her front dazed and confused. Another wave of his wand left him bereft of his clothing, other than the mask that still covered his face. As he walked across the room, Narcissa had managed to get her knees underneath her and was attempting to tug the chain up, barely able to lift her upper body from the bed to garner more leverage, and also inadvertently giving Harry an excellent view. Her pussy was a bright red and actually dripping with arousal, a large stain on the cot indicating it had been going on for a good long while.

It was as he clambered onto the cot behind her, that Narcissa turned her attention away from trying to get her arms free.

“What are you doi – AH!” She began only to be interrupted as something far longer and far thicker than her fingers forced its way deep inside of her. Her mouth moved soundlessly as a spark of pleasure actually made its way through her body. No matter what she'd done, she'd made no progress whatsoever in easing the want between her legs, only ever stoking it higher. Now that some of the pleasure the ache promised was finally appearing she was at a loss for words.

She whined as Harry withdrew his cock until only the tip remained within her before gasping as he slammed himself back into her up to the hilt. For his part Harry was sure that he was clenching his teeth hard enough that his gums would soon start bleeding. Narcissa Malfoy's pussy was quite possibly one of the best he'd ever had. She was hotter than a furnace and he could feel her arousal coating his cock and trickling down over his balls in burning trails. She was as tight as a vice but coated in the finest velvet.

Moving back and thrusting in once more, Harry knew that he'd be doing this again and again and again. For a woman who seemed so proud, so dignified, the noise she made each time she was stuffed with his pole – a gasping moan – was undeniably lewd and perverse, heading straight for the caveman portion of his brain.

Narcissa for her part was in a sort of inner turmoil. One part of her was feeling seething, bitter anger that her captor was currently fucking her. Another part just didn't care as she felt a fire pool in her abdomen, steadily burning hotter and brighter every time he hammered into her, forcing her to jerk forward with each thrust. She felt her cheeks burn with a mixture of lust and shame as an embarrassingly wet noise emanated from where they were joined, each time he sank into her, followed by the slap of his flesh hitting hers.

A small part of her felt that the shame should be coming from the idea of being with a man other than her husband. But it was countered by the fact that there was very little love between her and Lucius. He was a prize to get her away from the Blacks, and she was the perfect pure-blood wife. Smart, but capable of keeping her mouth shut. Beautiful, but would make herself scarce when he desired it.

This was reflected in their bedroom activities. She made all the appropriate noises, he actually worked to bring her to orgasm as his pride demanded, and they fell asleep facing away from each other.

What he did not do was pound into her from behind like the brute currently doing so. He most certainly did not simply follow her down and keep on going when her legs collapsed beneath her. And he definitely did not have her mouth uttering a string of curses and demands to go harder and deeper, until the fire inside her finally exploded and her vision whited out as she screamed her release, soaking the cot beneath them.

Harry had noticed the warning signs, the steady tightening and relaxing of her twat, slowly growing in frequency. When she stiffened and started to scream, he started to hammer into her with near bruising force as he sought his own release before realization smacked into him. He'd forgotten the contraceptive potion in his hurry to get there.

It was with great reluctance and a strained groan that he managed to withdraw himself from her tight choking snatch. In a moment of irritation that he couldn't spill his essence inside her where he desperately wanted to, he shuffled off the cot and around to its head, one hand on his cock as he held back his release.

Grabbing a handul of her hair, he wrapped the strands – still silky smooth despite the lack of a shower or bath – around his cock and jerked his hand a few times. His release already close to the surface, spilled out of the tip of his cock in massive pearly white bursts which rained down on her head, the majority of it getting caught in her hair, while some trickled down onto her face.

She groaned weakly and attempted to turn her head from him, barely conscious after the earth-shattering orgasm that had just wracked her body.

Panting and tired himself, Harry picked up his wand and staggered from the room. He'd talk over the contract with her once they'd both had some time to recover.

Chapter End.

Hey all, sorry for the big wait, but I returned to Uni and my asshole lecturers decided that three of my assignments were due in on the same damn day. Now I don't know about any of you guys but the actual irritating thing about this isn't the amount due in on the same day. A total of 8,000 words across three assignments isn't so bad. Rather it was the fact that the questions that were available to us, the ones that I felt most comfortable doing, weren't covered in lectures until about two weeks beforehand.

That and one our tutors is so bloody disorganized, my seminar group had no idea what we were doing a presentation on until a few days beforehand.

Aggravating.

I hope you all enjoyed the Narcissa chapter, but after this I'm thinking of slimming down the chapters a little, maybe a bit closer to 4,000 words rather than 5-7,000 that I usually do.

I'm thinking either a Ginny chapter next, followed by Hermione or the other way around.

Cheerio peeps.